


Retribution

by bertie456 (bertee)



Series: Bones: Target [2]
Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-04
Updated: 2007-09-04
Packaged: 2017-10-27 20:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 34,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bertee/pseuds/bertie456
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Which is harder: staying together or staying alive?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Resisting Temptation

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to [Target.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/299399)

Temperance Brennan never had sex on the first date.

It was a rule that had served her well over the years. In college, she had escaped becoming a notch on the bed-post of Alex Sanders, one of her fellow science students whose persistence rarely lasted beyond one date. In grad school, she had refused to sleep with James Hill after their first time out together, thereby avoiding the reputation gained by his next girlfriend as being "easy" and sexually promiscuous. In her adult life, she had realised that her policy gave her a better opportunity to get to know potential partners, rather than letting her relationships be based solely on mutual gratification.

However, as Seeley Booth's hand slid gently up her thigh and his lips moved hungrily down her neck, mutual gratification suddenly became incredibly appealing.

Not that this was really their "first date." They had technically been seeing each other for the two weeks since the arrest of the Dellato family. Unfortunately, that statement couldn't be taken literally, as they had barely set eyes on each other for those two weeks. The Dellato trial had taken up a lot of their time, with both of them required to make statements and act as witnesses to ensure that Marco, Sal and Gina were convicted for their part in Booth's kidnapping.

On top of that, Brennan had been forced to attend an independent inquiry regarding the evidence that she had handed over to be destroyed. It had taken five separate meetings, interventions by the Director of the Jeffersonian and the Deputy Director of the FBI, and the threat of losing all funding from the Cantilever group before the tribunal had agreed with Brennan's perfectly reasonable belief that Booth should not have been executed by mobsters for the sake of a jacket, a piece of paper and some duct tape, especially when she had saved all the evidence needed for a conviction.

While Brennan had been dealing with the consequences of her actions, Booth had been dealing with the consequences of the Dellatos' actions. He could now find his way around Washington Hospital Center blindfolded, having been there for stitches in his back, frequent X-rays for his broken ankle and, most recently, to return his hospital-issued crutches. Booth himself had hated using the crutches, and so had been relieved when they were happily commandeered by his son as the infrastructure to a small fort he was building in his bedroom.

Finding that his near-death experience had made Rebecca more amenable to him spending his free time with Parker, Booth had seized the opportunity gratefully and so had played a large role in the construction of the aforementioned fort, much to the delight of his son and the chagrin of his mother, whom Parker enthusiastically pelted with socks whenever she tried to enter.

However, when Brennan had been fully cleared by the board and Rebecca had taken the little boy to visit his grandparents in Maine, Booth and Brennan had finally got the chance to spend some time together and go on their first official date.

The evening had gone well, even by Brennan's socially awkward standards. The restaurant was beautiful, the food was delicious and the company was relaxing and enjoyable. Despite her protests about antiquated chivalry, Booth had even walked her back up to her apartment door and it was here that the calm, restrained façade of the evening had slipped.

The goodnight kiss had started off as just that - a kiss. Booth had kissed her gently on the lips and, much like a snowball rolling down a hill, it had picked up considerably from there, to the extent that Temperance now had her back pressed against the door and her arms wrapped around her partner as he trailed teasingly light kisses just inside her collarbone.

She let out a small moan of pleasure as she felt Booth's hand slide up her shirt and his thumb brush gently over the lacy fabric of her bra cup. His lips moved back up to recapture hers as his other hand continued to move gradually up her thigh, sending a tingling sensation through her body when he reached the bare skin where her stockings ended.

Actively ignoring her "no sex on the first date" rule, Temperance decided to let the proverbial snowball run its course. Letting her head rest against the door as they kissed, she ran her hands slowly down Booth's chest, enjoying the feel of his muscles tensing under his shirt at her touch. As she reached his belt, her slim fingers traced the outline of his belt buckle, before hooking round the top of it and pulling Booth closer to her with a playful tug.

However, she underestimated her own strength. Caught off guard, Booth landed awkwardly on his broken ankle and gasped as the unexpected pain shot through his leg. Ordinarily, his wince would barely have been audible, but in the intimate silence of the corridor, it had the same de-arousing effect as being hit full in the face by the runaway snowball.

Hoping she hadn't realised what she'd done to him, Booth leaned in to kiss her again, but Brennan planted a hand firmly on his chest, shaking her head sadly, "We shouldn't do this. Not now."

"Bones..." Booth began, but she cut him off.

"It's not that I don't want to," she said softly, "But you're still hurt and I don't want to do any more damage."

He gave her a small smile and cupped her face with one hand, "I'm fine, Bones. You're really not going to 'damage' me by doing this."

Moving in closer, his lips met hers and Temperance felt herself relaxing in his embrace again. Wrapping her arm around his neck, she pulled her body towards him, letting his hands settle easily on her hips. Her other arm snaked around his upper torso until her hand rested just below his shoulder blades. Mentally apologising for what she was about to do, she proceeded to pull herself even closer, pressing hard on his back as she did so.

This time, Booth's yelp was definitely audible. They broke apart reluctantly and Brennan eyed her partner, her expression both smug and apologetic, "I'm sorry, but I think I made my point." Unconsciously repeating his previous gesture, she reached out to touch his cheek. "Some of your injuries are still healing and if we're going to do this..."

She trailed off and Booth finished with an understanding smile, "We should both enjoy it." Brennan simply returned the smile and he sighed good-naturedly, "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I'll see you tomorrow," she confirmed, almost regretting her decision to send him away, wounded or not.

Booth rested his hands comfortably on her waist as he met her eyes, "So, I guess this is goodnight." Not waiting for a reply, he brought his lips to hers and Temperance returned the kiss with equal tenderness. When they finally broke away from each other, foreheads resting together and slightly out of breath, Booth whispered, partly to himself, "God, I wish I was a masochist..."

Smiling at his comment, she took a step back, saying firmly, "Goodnight, Booth."

"Goodnight, Bones," he replied, not without a hint of reluctance, before heading down the corridor to the elevator.

Temperance watched him go before turning to the door to let herself in. Once inside, she hung her coat up and, slipping off her high heels, padded tiredly to the bedroom in her stockinged feet, noting that the first date rule had indeed been upheld, and wishing fervently that it hadn't. Yawning, she clicked the bedroom light on as she entered and moved towards the dresser, her mind still debating the wisdom of sending Booth away.

Deep in thought, she didn't notice the man lurking behind her door until he had grabbed her tightly from behind, his arm wrapped round her throat and the barrel of his pistol pressing unflinchingly against her temple.


	2. Don't Shoot the Messenger

If everybody at the FBI was asked to describe Agent Harry Sampson in one word, "anxious" would probably top the list. Closely followed by "big-boned" (or some less flattering variation thereof.) Unfortunately for Harry, the combination of those two characteristics was not an attractive sight, and today was no different.

He ran his hand through his light brown hair, which was currently plastered to his clammy forehead, and stared nervously at the message he had received from the New York branch of the FBI. He knew what he needed to do with it, but somehow his legs didn't seem to want to let him move to deliver it. Taking a deep breath, he got to his feet and headed up the stairs to the offices of the senior agents on the fourth floor.

Climbing eight flights of stairs did nothing to help his perspiration problems, and by the time he arrived at the desired floor, the paper was crumpled and slightly damp from being clutched in his hot little hand. Breathing heavily, he hurried down the corridor towards the office of Special Agent Seeley Booth, half-hoping that the agent wouldn't be in there.

Not that Harry disliked Agent Booth. Quite the opposite. Of all the senior agents at the Bureau, Booth was the one who was nicest to Harry. It wasn't that they were close friends or anything, but Booth had never made fun of Harry for his weight or his nervous disposition like the rest of the agents, thus earning Harry's loyalty and admiration.

He even liked to think that he'd played a special role in helping save Booth from his kidnappers, since he was the one who had gone down to the cells to secure the release of Marco Dellato. Sure, he'd only done it because Dr Brennan had asked him to, and he'd had no idea at the time that Booth's safety depended on it, but in his eyes that didn't make it any less important. In the week after the events with the Dellato family, Harry even found that his actual participation in the proceedings had attained him god-like status, albeit temporarily, amongst the secretaries and typists on the second floor. He didn't know whether this deification was because they were impressed with his dedication to his job or simply because he had helped to ensure the safe return of their favorite eye-candy, nor did he much care.

However, as much as he liked Agent Booth, Harry wasn't stupid. He was aware that Booth was fiercely protective when it came to his partner and it was for this reason that he was deeply relieved to find that he wasn't in his office - he didn't want to mention a threat to Dr Brennan while he was in a situation where Booth could possibly shoot him, loyalty and admiration be damned.

Moving over to the desk, Harry picked up the phone and quickly dialled Booth's cell, fairly confident that he couldn't shoot him from across town, despite what the sniper rumors said. The call was answered on the third ring and the phone nearly slid out of Harry's already sweaty palm when Booth answered suspiciously, "Who is this and why are you in my office?"

After a few seconds of sheer, dumb terror at Booth's apparent omniscience, Harry remembered about Caller ID and answered the older man in the strongest voice he could muster, "Uh, it's Agent Sampson, Sir. I've got a message for you from the New York office."

Booth sighed tiredly, "Can this not wait till morning, Harry? It's 11.30, kid; go home."

Slightly buoyed by the fact that he knew his name, Harry pressed on, "I'm sorry, Sir, but it's pretty urgent."

Another sigh came down the phone line, "Shoot."

Resisting his immediate instinct to duck on hearing the word "shoot," he began to relay his information, "Well, the message came from an agent in the New York office, who was working with a senior agent, who has a mole inside one of the most powerful mob families in the city."

He paused for breath and the impatience could clearly be heard in Booth's voice, "And?"

Taking another deep breath, Harry ploughed on, "According to this source, the two brothers at the head of the family have left New York and have been in DC since the weekend."

"So they took a break? This is the message? Why am I being kept up to speed on the Soprano family vacations?"

"Actually, the Sopranos are from New Jersey, not New York," Harry helpfully corrected before realising that was not the crucial point of Booth's questions. "It's not a vacation, Sir," he continued, returning to the message he still held, "The agent says that usually one brother stays in New York if the other is on vacation. They've never both left before."

"Okay, so why have they come?" Booth asked, eager to get to the point, "And what does this have to do with me?"

Harry swallowed hard, really not wanting to answer that question. "They've come, Sir," he began anxiously, "Because a family member asked for their help. You know what mobsters are like about family; even if they haven't spoken for years, they still want to uphold the family reputation. The mole said three of their cousins had recently been convicted of murder, kidnapping and assault and that they were looking for revenge."

"Who was their contact in DC?" Booth asked quietly and Harry could tell he already knew the answer.

"Luca Dellato," he replied, equally softly, before elaborating, "His father, Enzo, was the younger brother of the leader of the New York arm. The two brothers, Tony and Carlo, are Luca's cousins and-"

He was silenced as the phone went dead. Replacing it back in the cradle with a long slow breath, Harry nodded to himself as he looked down at the mildly soggy paper he still clutched in his hand, and said brightly, to no-one in particular, "I think that went quite well."

* * *

Booth had begun to run the second Luca Dellato's name left the rookie agent's mouth.

Flipping his phone shut, he dropped it in his jacket pocket as he sprinted back down the street towards Brennan's apartment building, ignoring the dull throb in his ankle as his feet pounded the hard concrete. Mentally, he berated himself for dismissing the possible threat from New York branch of the family. _Why the hell didn't you check on it?_ his mind yelled at him. _Why did you let them come to you?_

Trying not to imagine the worst, he entered the large, red brick complex and saw, much to his relief, that there was an elevator open at ground level. Running into it, he hit the button for the second floor, knowing that it would be faster than running up four sets of stairs with his aching ankle. As he rode up in the elevator, it suddenly occurred to him that he was off work, and without his gun.

The doors opened with a chime and Booth stepped out, sincerely hoping that he was worried about nothing, and that Brennan would be safely asleep. As he jogged towards her door, his heart sank as he heard the unmistakable sounds of a struggle inside.

Deciding that the element of surprise would have to compensate for his complete lack of any kind of weapon, he kicked the door hard with his good foot, offering up a swift prayer that he wouldn't be too late.


	3. Fine - Part 1

As the wooden door gave way under Booth's foot, images of some of the most horrific things he'd seen in his time danced mockingly through his mind and he sincerely hoped that Brennan wasn't going to be added to that list. The door crashed open and he stepped slowly inside, trying to prepare himself for what he was about to find.

It was not what he expected.

Brennan's usually immaculate apartmet looked like a small tornado had swept through it. Piles of papers and books were scattered across the carpet from where they had been knocked over in the struggle. Shards of glass from broken picture frames mingled with fragments of broken pottery which had tumbled from the shelves, and a large chunk was missing from Brennan's pinewood coffee table, where it looked like someone had fallen with a great deal of force behind them.

But that wasn't what surprised him. It was the sight of the assailant himself lying face down on the lounge floor with Temperance Brennan sitting heavily on his back, effectively pinning him down, whilst at the same time gripping his wrists tightly to hold his hands against the carpet above his head.

She looked up quickly at the sound of the door caving in and her shoulders visibly relaxed when she saw that it was Booth, and not someone acting as a back-up to her incapacitated attacker.

"You okay, Bones?" he asked with concern as he made his way through the debris. "What happened?"

Brennan was still breathing heavily from the exertions of the fight but nodded in response to his question, "I'm fine, Booth. He caught me by surprise, but I'm fine." As a way of proving her "fine" status, she offered him a slight smile, but her split lip and bruised temple, coupled with the undue hesitation as she spoke, convinced him that she was anything but.

Ignoring his doubtful gaze, she looked back down at the man on the ground, who was still struggling against her grip, and said, her voice somehow distant, "We should find some way to restrain him." Her eyes lit up with inspiration as she looked up at Booth, "Do you have your handcuffs with you?"

Booth raised his eyebrows, "Bones, it's Friday night. I'm off work and I've just been on a date. With you. What makes you think I would bring handcuffs with me?"

"I just thought I'd ask," she replied, unperturbed. "Can you try to find something? I don't have any rope, or cuffs, but there might be some string in the kitchen."

Oddly relieved to hear that she didn't own a pair of handcuffs, Booth headed into the kitchen and rummaged quickly through the drawers, to no avail. "You don't have any string," he yelled back to her. "Any other ideas?"

"You were a Ranger," she called loudly, "Improvise."

With a sigh, he headed into the bedroom, noting that his job usually involved taking down the bad guys, not finding something to tie them up with when his partner had already beaten them to a bloody pulp, and deciding that he definitely preferred his usual job.

A few seconds later, he emerged, triumphantly clutching the long silky scarf that Brennan had been wearing earlier that evening. "Will this do?"

She hesitated for a second, not really wanting to use her best scarf to tie up an attempted murderer, but guessing that Booth would struggle to find anything better, reluctantly took it from his hands and bound the man's wrists behind him, ignoring the whimper of pain as she pulled the knot tightly.

As she finished, she got to her feet and turned to face Booth. He tilted her chin up to face him and she saw his jaw tighten as he carefully checked her injuries. When he reached up to examine the contusion on her forehead, she quickly batted his hand away and stepped out of his reach. "Booth, I'm fine. Now, would you please tell me what's going on? How did you know he would be here?"

After briefly debating whether to push further about her well-being, Booth decided against it and instead led her into the kitchen and away from the intruder, who had managed to sit himself up and was currently glaring angrily at the pair of them, despite his Brennan-inflicted black eye.

Grabbing a kitchen towel from the door, Booth pulled a few pieces of ice out of the freezer and wrapped them in the towel, holding it gently against Brennan's head as he spoke quietly, "I got a message from the Bureau that the two heads of a mob family in New York have headed down to DC." Meeting her inquiring gaze, he took a deep breath and said, almost apologetically, "They're Luca Dellato's cousins."

Temperance's eyes widened at the news and she leant back on the work surface, taking the towel from Booth's hand. She nodded slowly as the information sank in and Booth could almost see her mind calculating the implications of his statement. Eventually she looked back up at him, her voice confident but her eyes full of fear, "So what do they want? Does Luca want to get his family out of jail, or are they just out for revenge?"

"Bones..." he began compassionately, reaching for her again, but she pulled her arm away from him.

"Which is it?" she questioned, her anxiety starting to break through. "I should at least know what I'm dealing with, Booth, since I was the one who was attacked tonight!" She took a deep breath and repeated slowly, "Are they looking for a pardon or vengeance?"

"I don't know." Temperance opened her mouth to object, but Booth continued, trying to keep his tone business-like, "The message didn't say much, but I'll know more when I talk to this guy."

He nodded towards the captive in Brennan's lounge and she wrinkled her brows in confusion, "Don't you need to wait for a lawyer?" Booth met her eyes, his gaze steely, and realisation quickly dawned on her. "Booth, no," she said warningly. "I am not going to let you torture him for information!"

Booth grabbed her arm on hearing her words and moved in closer, speaking quietly so the other man couldn't hear them. "I am not going to torture him, Bones! But I can guarantee he's been told to keep silent if arrested. This is the only way we can find out what's going on."

Brennan did not look convinced and hoping to distract her, he handed her his cell, giving her brief instructions, "Just go and call Cullen. Tell him I need back-up here now and transport to the Bureau. If he asks why, say it's related to the Dellato case and that Agent Sampson has further details."

He started to walk back into the lounge area, but Brennan blocked his path, annoyed at being given an errand to do while her partner risked his entire career with an illegal interrogation, "Don't do this; there must be a better way."

Putting his hands on her shoulders, he dropped his head to face her, his tone indicating the gravity of the situation, "There isn't. I swear I won't hurt him, but you need to go in the other room and call Cullen." She opened her mouth to protest but he cut her off, "Please don't fight me on this." His voice softened slightly, "Please, Bones."

Going against all her uncompromising instincts, Temperance nodded reluctantly and headed into the bedroom to make the call, leaving Booth alone in the living area of the apartment with the man who had thus far remained silent.


	4. Fine - Part 2

The intruder watched mutely as Booth moved calmly around the kitchen, opening and closing drawers as he went. However, when Booth pulled out a large, black-handled knife with a satisfied smile, he swallowed hard and tugged against the scarf fastened securely around his wrists, noticing with terror that the agent smirked at his attempts.

Setting the knife conspicuously down on the counter, Booth walked over to the man and wordlessly pulled him to his feet, before pushing him back down onto the couch and sitting on the coffee table opposite him, apparently relaxed.

Trying not to show his fear, he eyed Booth defiantly and said, as boldly as he could, "You're not getting anything out of me."

The other man merely chuckled slightly, as though at some private joke, and said, his tone casual, "Not even your name?" Getting no response, he shrugged, "The back-up team will be here in a few minutes. I'll get your name when you're arrested." He raised his eyebrows as if a thought had occurred to him, "It's not something stupid, is it? You know, like Delbert, or Edgar, or something?"

"No!" he shot back, offended. "It's Tom."

Booth grinned to himself at the man's stupidity, but kept a calm exterior as he asked, "That doesn't sound much like an Italian name. The Dellatos recruiting from outside the family now?"

"Yeah, man, this was a one time gig," Tom replied, forgetting the situation he was in. "I get paid to get the job done, and get out. I'm not in this for the long haul."

 _You are now,_ Booth thought as he contemplated the prison sentence for attempted murder. Knowing that it was easiest to start with a friendly demeanour, he inquired further, "What was the job exactly? Quick kill, dump the body?"

He realised he had gone too far when he saw Tom's mouth become set in a hard line again. "I'm not saying anything to you."

Giving a disaffected shrug, Booth got to his feet and wandered back to the counter. As he leaned against it and toyed with the knife, he glanced over at Tom and was pleased to see that his face had paled considerably. A controlled hint of menace crept into his voice as he spoke this time, "You see, _Tom_ , the woman you were sent to attack is my girlfriend. Ordinarily, I'd probably swing for anyone who so much as looked at her sideways - you know how it is with women, right?"

Tom nodded in response to his question, unable to take his eyes off the knife that glinted ominously in the dim light of the lounge. Booth smiled again, "Glad we both see eye to eye on that one. Because, since I'd fight someone for looking, I don't know what I'd do to someone who tried to kill her." Tom's breathing became quicker as Booth walked back to his seat on the broken coffee table, still twirling the knife in his fingers and fully aware that the mere threat of injury was often motivation enough.

"I'd guess we've got about five minutes before the back-up gets here and arrests you," he mused, checking his watch. "Of course, when they get here, they'll assume that any injuries you've got are from the fight." Holding the knife still, he met Tom's eyes, a small smile playing on his lips. "How much damage do you think a knife this big could do in five minutes? Last time I tried this, the guy didn't even get past three..." It was a blatant lie, but Booth knew it'd have the desired effect.

Breathing heavily, the man on the couch looked up at him in terror, his eyes wide and perspiration clearly visible on his forehead. Recognising the reaction that he hadn't seen in years, Booth knew he'd got him where he wanted. Leaning in closer, he said slowly, "Now, there is another way we could pass those five minutes but I seem to remember you not wanting to talk to me. Hmm, Tom?"

Tom's voice came out as a frightened stammer, "If I talk... Will you not... I mean, the knife... "

Booth's eyes gave nothing away. "That depends on what you tell me. Who sent you here?"

"Tony and Carlo," Tom replied, without hesistation.

"Dellato?" the agent asked, wanting to clarify.

Tom nodded vigorously, "Yeah, Dellato."

"What were you told to do?"

He said nothing in response, looking down nervously. Booth twirled the knife again, his voice showing his impatience, "Come on, Tommy boy. I've still got a few minutes to fill. It's your choice how it goes."

"I was supposed to kill her," he answered quickly. "I was going to shoot her and then they wanted me to chop off her hands and cut out her eyes and her tongue." He paused for breath and looked up at Booth with trepidation. "That's all I was told, I swear."

On hearing this, every part of Booth's body wanted to lunge forward and use the knife as he had threatened to, but his military training and whatever self-control he possessed held him back as he tried to extract more information from the man sitting before him. "Why the mutilation?" he asked with feigned casualness. "Why not just kill her?"

Tom shook his head, "I don't know, man. I just do as I'm told-"

"Will it happen again?" Booth asked bluntly, cutting him off. "Are they sending anyone else?"

"I don't know. They weren't exactly expecting me to fail." He offered Booth a slight smile but swallowed hard as the agent just looked at him coldly.

"What about the others?" he pressed, wanting to learn all he could. "Angela Montenegro, Jack Hodgins, Zach Addy - did they put a hit out on them too?"

"I don't know..."

"Then think harder!" Booth yelled, standing over the cowering man.

"I swear on my life, man, I don't know any more," he replied, almost crying with fear. "Please, I swear, just don't kill me..."

Booth looked down at him for a moment longer before turning away and tossing the knife down on the counter with a clang. Sighing heavily, he ran his hand through his hair, trying to process the new information while at the same time trying to rid himself of the dirty feeling that came after this sort of interrogation. He knew that what he'd done was a necessary evil, and that this guy would claim his right to remain silent as soon as he could, but that didn't help him shake the all too familiar guilt.

Feeling the adrenaline starting to wear off, he leaned forward on the counter, staring down at the floor and not wanting to let himself delve any deeper into the long-repressed memories that were now starting to resurface. He heard Brennan emerge from the bedroom and stand next to him, mirroring his position. Without looking up, he asked tiredly, "Did you hear all of that?"

She nodded, speaking softly, "Yes."

Eager to avoid the topic of how he went about the interrogation, Booth said quietly, "I'll pull the file on Tony and Carlo at the Bureau, see if that explains any of this. Maybe the eyes, hands and tongue thing is part of their M.O."

He was interrupted by the sound of sirens outside and stood up straight, not relishing the thought of going through the whole situation again with Cullen. "We should go see-" he began, but was stopped as Brennan put a hand on his arm.

"Are you okay?" she asked sincerely, meeting his eyes. "What you just did..."

"I'm fine, Bones," he replied instinctively, fixing an unconcerned smile back on his face. "I wasn't the one who was attacked tonight, remember? And as for what just happened, you were on the phone to Cullen and didn't see or hear anything."

Understanding his implication, and the possible consequences if he was found to have illegally intimidated a suspect, Temperance nodded, but asked again, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," he reiterated, his voice a little harsher this time. She looked slightly taken aback by his tone and he sighed apologetically, "Let's just get out of here, okay? I'll feel better when this guy's safely locked away, and you're in the safe hands of the FBI for the night."

She raised her eyebrows and said playfully, "Safe hands of the FBI? I don't remember the FBI being there when he attacked me earlier..."

Booth gave her a winning smile as he slid an arm around her shoulders and led her towards the door, "Yes, but the FBI did find something to tie him up with after you'd kicked his ass."

Brennan looked up at him with a slight smile of her own as she spoke mockingly, "Yeah, my best scarf."

Her partner shrugged, "I'll buy you a new one."

"It cost $600."

"Of course, any dirt in this one'll just wash right out," Booth added quickly.

Smirking slightly at his panicked reaction, Temperance allowed him to lead her to the door to wait for the back-up team, still unable to shake her uneasiness. However, she was unsure if this was because of the impending danger or because she'd had a first-hand glimpse of just what her partner was capable of.


	5. Friends and Enemies

Sam Cullen was having a bad night.

It had started with an argument with his wife, Sarah, about the hours he was putting in at the FBI. He'd come home, exhausted, at 9.30pm and had spent the next hour being yelled at for choosing the FBI over his wife and family. He'd then apologised profusely for a further hour, promising that she was his priority in life and that the long hours just happened to be an occupational hazard.

His groveling had finally paid off, and he and his wife were about to make up in the best possible way when he'd received the call.

Cullen didn't like speaking to Dr Brennan at the best of times, finding her to be patronising and frankly unnerving, but, in his own way, he did respect her abilities and was glad she worked with the FBI. His tolerance of her, however, only stretched so far and, when all he wanted to do was make love to his wife and go to sleep, a phone call at 11.50 at night was way beyond his limits. It also seemed to be beyond his wife's limits, as she had slapped him across the face and thrown him out of the bedroom for leaving her at midnight to see another woman.

The fact that the phone call was completely justified and that one of his best agents and his only forensic anthropologist were possibly in serious danger did little to pacify Cullen as he drove reluctantly to the FBI headquarters, having given instructions to a back-up team to secure Dr Brennan's apartment and bring everyone down to the Bureau.

Once there, his night didn't get any better.

Walking into his office, he had found himself dealing with an injured anthropologist who refused to let the medic check her over, her concerned partner/boyfriend who was worried about the possibility of more attacks and a man arrested for attempted murder who was making very vocal claims being intimidated and threatened by a certain federal agent.

After instructing two, large agents to escort Dr Brennan down to the first aid center and far away from him, he had ordered Agent Sampson to research Tony and Carlo Dellato, since he already had a basic knowledge of the case so far. Dispatching one more agent to bring him copious amounts of the strongest coffee he could find, Cullen now sat Agent Booth and the arrestee on the chairs in front of him, and wishing to resolve the issue without having to suspend anyone. Namely, Booth.

Gesturing towards the smaller man, who looked sullen and slightly battered, he said, as calmly as he could manage, "Now, Mr...?"

"Harris," the man supplied. "Tom Harris."

"Well, Mr Harris, would you like to tell me your side of what happened?" Cullen glanced over at Booth as he spoke and saw that he was leaning back in his chair, his eyes on the man next to him.

"Yeah, he threatened to kill me!" Tom answered, aggrieved. "He sent his girl in the other room, and then he started playing with this big knife, saying that he'd kill me unless I talked."

"Did he actually say those words?" Cullen inquired and saw a small smile cross Booth's face. "Did he say that he would kill you?"

"No, but he said that the last time he'd used a knife that big the person had bled out after three minutes and how much damage did I think he could do in five minutes." His words spilled out in his hurry to defend his story and the older man leaned forward, curiously.

"So, he only asked for your opinion?" he clarified. "He never actually threatened to hurt you with the knife?"

"He said he'd killed before!" Tom replied, flustered. "He meant to kill me next!"

Cullen gave him a patient smile, "Whether Agent Booth has killed before is irrelevant here. Unless there's something else, what you've told me doesn't prove intimidation."

Tom's eyes widened in protest, "But he had a knife!"

Catching the smirk on Booth's face, Cullen knew he'd covered his tracks as he asked, "What did he do with the knife? Did he cut you? Hold it to your throat? Move to stab you?" The young man looked over at Booth, who merely smiled at him as his boss continued, "Well, answer the question."

"He played with it," Tom admitted reluctantly and Cullen gave a satisfied nod.

"Is there anything else?" he inquired. "Any other behavior of Agent Booth's that may have suggested intimidation?"

Tom thought for a moment, running out of ideas. Suddenly his eyes lit up as a thought occured to him, "He said that he do more than hit someone who tried to kill his girlfriend!"

The deputy director paused as he tried to make sense of the man's words. "You're saying that Agent Booth implied he'd kill or seriously injure someone who tried to kill Dr Brennan?"

His only response was a fervent nod and Booth's smile widened as he guessed what was coming.

Just as Booth predicted, Cullen asked casually, "And would you describe yourself as someone who tried to kill Dr Brennan?"

Tom Harris fell silent, confused by the turn the conversation had taken. At last, he ventured "No?"

"So what Agent Booth said doesn't pertain to you?"

"Um, no?"

"And because you didn't attempt to commit murder, Agent Booth would have had no reason to question you about anything relating to a murder attempt, such as your orders or the people behind it?"

"No," Tom said, more firmly this time.

"So if there was no exchange of information between the two of you, Agent Booth would have had no opportunity or reason to intimidate you, since you had done nothing wrong?"

"No," he replied confidently, apparently following Cullen's logic.

"Excellent." With that, the older man got to his feet and motioned to the door. "I'm glad we got this matter cleared up. One of our agents will now escort you down to the holding cells."

An agent promptly entered and led Tom, who was unsure whether to be satisfied or angry with the outcome, out of the room. Booth also stood and said briefly, "Thank you, Sir."

He too headed towards the door, but was stopped by a loud order from his superior. "Sit. Now."

Grudgingly, Booth returned to his chair, not meeting his eyes. Still standing, Cullen shook his head, "What the hell did you think you were doing?"

Booth looked up and began earnestly, "Sir, I knew he was going to stay silent! I needed to know what happ-"

Cullen cut him off, angrily. "It was a rhetorical question, Booth. I damn well know why you did it, but I am not going to cover your ass in future. You pull that again with any other suspect and I will have your badge and your gun before you can say "suspension." The only reason you are still here is because we both know that guy tried to kill your girlfriend, but that excuse won't work a second time. This is the FBI, Booth; we do not bully suspects for information. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Sir," Booth answered quietly.

"Good man," he said as he sank heavily into his chair, his anger dissipating. With a chuckle, he added, "I'll say this for you; you sure know how to cover your tracks."

The younger man looked up at him with a surprised smile, "Thank you, Sir." Pausing for a moment, he said with a grin, "The way you got him to admit he was wrong... You should've been a lawyer."

Cullen smiled. "I raised two children, Booth. I know how to talk people out of doing something."

"Yeah, so did my ex," Booth replied with a rueful grin. "I always meant to learn how she did that."

His boss leaned back in his chair, chuckling slightly at the thought before turning the conversation back to the business at hand, "So, what information did Mr Harris volunteer entirely of his own accord?"

Booth's expression sobered. "He said that he'd been hired by Tony and Carlo Dellato to kill Dr Brennan. After he'd killed her, he was told to remove her tongue, eyes and hands." He paused briefly, feeling the familiar stab of anger at the thought of anything happening to Brennan. "I asked him what the significance of that was, but he claimed he didn't know."

"And you believed him?" Cullen asked with interest.

"With all due respect, Sir," Booth said, his face stony, "He wasn't in a position to lie to me."

The deputy director nodded, understanding Booth's meaning. "Go and call Sampson and see if he's found anything. I'll speak to the Gang Task Force and see if they've heard anything about a potential hit on Dr Brennan. I'm assuming you want the rest of the squints under surveillance until we hear anything?"

"Yes, Sir," Booth replied gratefully, surprised at Cullen's willingness to help.

"The same goes for you, Agent. If they're targeting witnesses in the trial, your name's going to be high on the list. You stay inside this building at all times, including the rest of the night, and make sure that partner of yours does the same."

"But wouldn't it be easier if-"

"No," Cullen said simply. "This is serious, Booth, and you'll do what I tell you. I do not want a repeat of last time. Have you any idea how much paperwork I have to fill in when something happens to one of my agents? You don't leave the Bureau until we get some answers." He gave him a tired smile. "Now go and save the medics from your girlfriend."

Not needing to be told twice, Booth hurried out of the office, calling sincerely, "Thank you, Sir."

As he made his way quickly down the corridor, he nearly collided with an agent coming in the other direction, carrying a very large cup of coffee which Booth guessed was destined for Cullen. Muttering a quick apology, Booth continued towards the elevator, but stopped when the man behind him yelled, "Hey, cripple!"

Turning round angrily, Booth was surprised to find the man smiling broadly at him and recognition dawned as he remembered that smile from his training days, "Smith?"

The man grinned, "The one and only." He walked back down to corridor towards Booth. "How you been, Seel? How's life up in homicide?"

He shrugged, "Pretty good. Where'd they place you after Quantico?"

"Gang unit," Mark Smith replied with satisfaction. "I got my share of action so I ain't complaining. How come you're working so late? Would've thought they'd have you on light duties, what with you getting kidnapped and all."

Booth bit back a retort. It had been two weeks since his abduction and torture at the hands of the Dellatos and he still bristled every time someone brought it up as though it were office gossip. Tired and desperate to see his partner, he really did not want to hear Mark Smith, an overly loud guy he had briefly roomed with at Quantico, speculating on any of the events of the last two weeks, including what had happened that evening.

Giving him a tight smile, Booth said apologetically, "It's just been a busy night. Look, man, I've really got to go - personal stuff. Can we save the catch-up for another time?"

He started to walk away without waiting for a reply, but heard Smith shout after him, slightly confused, "Yeah, sure, man. Looking forward to hearing how you got the crap beat out of you by a girl!"

It was all Booth could do to keep walking forward, ignoring the violent anger that rose up at his tactless comment. Getting into the elevator and pushing all thoughts of Gina Dellato from his head, he headed down to the small first-aid room, wondering if Brennan had managed to get through a medical exam without assaulting any of the staff.

Mark Smith watched him go, a dark grin on his face. Checking the message on his cell one last time, he walked calmly into Cullen's office, deciding to give Booth a final few minutes with his partner.


	6. In Safe Hands?

Temperance Brennan was sulking.

If anyone had pointed this out, she would have strenuously denied it, but, sitting opposite her in Booth's office, Mark Smith knew that she was sulking. Her jaw was clenched tightly and her arms were folded petulantly across her chest as she snapped, "I don't need a babysitter, Agent Smith."

He smiled at her as he shrugged, "I'm just following orders, Doc."

"You take orders from Booth?" she asked mockingly, her tone making it perfectly clear that _she_ didn't.

"Not exactly," he replied with a dark grin, before quickly changing the subject. "Look, sweetheart, Seeley told me to sit here and keep an eye on you, and that's exactly what I'm going to do. He'll be back as soon as he's got all his information from the boss, and then you can yell at him as much as you want, but that don't change the fact that you're stuck with me for the next half hour."

Brennan sighed irritably, knowing he was right. The medic had instructed her to stay under supervision for the next few hours in case there were any side effects of the head injury she'd received, and when Booth had been called to see Cullen and Sampson for an update, she'd been left in the care of Mark Smith. He'd happened to be walking past when Booth got the call, and so was recruited for the first shift of Brennan-watch, while her concerned partner had dashed upstairs, promising that he'd be back as soon as possible.

She had asked why she couldn't just come with him, and Booth had patiently explained that the combination of Cullen and herself wasn't great at the best of times, but her presence in his office at 1am could feasibly result in one or more deaths, and he was eager to avoid that outcome. The matter resolved, he had headed to his meeting, leaving her alone with the ever talkative Agent Smith.

"So, these people really want you dead, huh?"

Brennan's head snapped up at the question, her eyebrows raised at the agent's lack of tact, "Excuse me?"

Ignoring her angry reaction, he continued, "People are saying it's because you handed over faked evidence to the guys who kidnapped Seeley."

"I don't see how that's any of your business," she replied coldly.

Mark Smith refused to take the hint. "See, if it'd been me, I'd have just given them what they asked for, avoided any of these nasty repercussions." He looked over at her with a smile, "Surprised you didn't think of that, Doc; what with you being so smart and all."

Brennan looked at him with sheer contempt and said icily, "I don't remember asking for your opinion, Agent Smith."

"Call it free advice," he answered, his voice slightly lower than before. "See, I heard that you risked Seeley's life by giving them the fake stuff. Wouldn't have had you pegged as being that harsh." Brennan looked at him in shock, and he pressed on, "Ready to let your boyfriend die so you could put a couple of people in jail? Hell, I never believed it before, but the guys are right; you really are a cold bitch." He grinned cheerfully. "Guess you're paying for it now though."

Hearing him verbalise the insecurity that had been playing on her mind for two weeks, Brennan got to her feet, demanding angrily, "Get out."

Smith made no move to leave, giving her a malicious smile, "We're just talking here. Didn't think you'd be so uptight about it..." He eyed her with interest. "Didn't hit a nerve, did I?"

Slightly shaken, she headed for the door, not wanting to dignify him with a response. Smith was on his feet in a flash and ran to intercept her, blocking her way out. Lifting her head to meet his eyes, she ordered, almost as a threat, "Get out of my way."

He smiled darkly. "Or you'll do what?"

Staring at him for a few more seconds, Brennan suddenly brought her knee up to his stomach, hoping to catch him off guard. She didn't manage to, as he stepped back quickly and back-handed her hard across the face while she tried to regain her balance. She fell to the floor with a cry, the cut on her lip now bleeding again, and Smith advanced towards her, his expression cold and business-like.

Before he could bend down to grab her, she kicked out hard with her legs, catching him behind the ankles and bringing him crashing to the floor beside her, cursing loudly. Temperance sat up, feeling her head spin from the combined effects of the earlier head injury and the latest blow. She moved to stand, wanting to get out of the office and as far away from Mark Smith as possible, but as she headed for the door, his wrist fastened tightly around her ankle, pulling her to the ground again.

At once, he was on top of her, his fingers closing around her throat as her tired muscles struggled to shift his weight from her body. Gasping for breath, she lashed out as much as she could, but found that her feet were connecting with nothing but air and that her feeble blows to his torso did nothing to move him.

Feeling her flail desperately underneath him, he let out a low chuckle, keeping his grip tight on her throat as he whispered cruelly, "Now I see what Seeley likes about you - you look hotter when you're on your back."

His taunting only made Brennan struggle harder and with all the strength she could muster, she raised her knee forcefully and was rewarded by a bellow of pain from Smith as it reached its target between his thighs. Releasing her neck, his hands flew to his groin as he rolled off her, whimpering in agony.

Taking in much needed breaths, Temperance stumbled to her feet and ran for the door, her body feeling the effects from her second fight of the evening. But just as her fingers reached out for the door handle, she felt her attacker's hand grab the back of her shirt and pull her back with a powerful tug. Before she could turn round to defend herself, he shoved her forward on to the floor in front of Booth's desk, smiling as her shoulder collided hard with the wood as she fell.

Gripping onto the desk, she tried weakly to stand again, but froze as she heard the sound of a gun being cocked. Mark Smith's voice cut through the tense silence. "Turn round, sweetheart. Let's see that pretty little face one last time."

Slowly, Brennan obeyed, seeing that the agent was now standing between her and the door, too far away for her to risk an attempt at seizing the gun. He gave her an apologetic smile, "I wanted to do this the quiet way. Would've left a nicer looking corpse too, except for the no hands, eyes or tongue thing, but I guess it's your choice."

He aimed the gun at her head and Brennan instinctively tried to back away but the cold wood of the desk blocked her retreat. With nowhere to run, she looked up at Smith, thinking that he could probably hear her heart pounding in her chest as though it was its last chance to do so. Trying to disguise the fear in her voice, she spoke out, hoping that she could at least buy herself some time, "How much are the Dellatos paying you to kill me?"

Laughing, he replied calmly, "More than I'm willing to risk by letting you stall for time." He winked at her. "Nice try though."

Unable to take her eyes of the barrel of the gun, Brennan heard the sound of the gun being cocked and swallowed hard, wondering if she was about to die. She expected that her life would flash before her eyes, but her mind was suddenly filled with one single over-riding thought _, The gun was already cocked._ She looked up at her assailant in surprise and saw that he too had realised that the sound had not come from his own gun.

Before either of them could process this discovery, Booth's commanding voice was heard from the door, "Drop the gun, Smith."

Mark Smith closed his eyes and sighed in defeat, but did not let go of the gun. Booth repeated, loudly, "Drop the weapon and put your hands on your head. Do it!"

The other man slowly raised his hands in the air and began to turn to face Booth, now pointing the gun at the ceiling. Booth's eyes darted to his partner as Smith moved out of his line of sight and Brennan saw a look of relief pass quickly across his face before he turned his attention back to the still-armed agent. With barely contained anger, he ordered, "This is your last warning, Smith. Drop the gun or I swear to God I'll shoot."

His opponent shook his head, an apologetic note in his voice, "Sorry, Seel, but that's not going to happen. I'm not going to jail for this."

Booth's aim didn't waver as he replied coldly, "You tried to kill my partner, you son of a bitch, so yeah, you're going to jail. Now put the gun down and you might get to go there with four working limbs."

Ignoring his threat, Smith gestured towards Brennan, who had now got to her feet, and began to speak, "About your girl-"

Cutting him off, Booth spoke angrily, "Keep your mouth shut."

Smiling mirthlessly, the agent continued, seemingly unafraid, "It wasn't anything personal. The money they offered me... it was way too much to pass up."

"The Dellatos?" Booth asked as Smith slowly started to inch backwards. "They the ones who paid you?"

He gave a shrug of acknowledgement. "You know they were. Look, I'm sorry, man, I really am, but I needed the cash. I got debts, loan sharks after me, people asking questions about some of my evidence that got misplaced; I needed to get away."

"If you think that's going to stop me turning you in..." Booth warned him, unsympathetically, but the cornered agent just shook his head.

"I'm not making excuses," he said confidently. "Hell, I'd have killed your girl without looking back if you hadn't come in." He offered Booth a cocky grin, "I just don't want you thinking I'm a coward for what I'm going to do now."

Booth's aim fixed firmly on his head again as he asked, cautiously, "What are you talking about?"

Smith chuckled to himself as he raised his gun, shaking his head, "I ain't going to jail, Seeley. I promise you that."

Glancing over towards Brennan, Booth saw that she was edging towards him, but still in firing range. He took a large step to the side, putting himself in front of his partner whilst keeping his gun trained on the man opposite him as he ordered, feeling panic rising in his gut, "Put the gun down now."

"Or else what, _Agent Booth_?" he asked mockingly, smiling to himself. "You'll shoot me?" He looked down at the gun he held in both hands before meeting Booth's eyes again, his expression sober. "Too late."

With that, Mark Smith placed the gun under his own chin and pulled the trigger.


	7. Aftermath

It seemed to happen in slow motion. The gun dropped to the carpet as his hand went limp, landing with a tiny thump which was masked by the gunshot that still echoed in their ears. Smith's dead eyes looked straight at them as he dropped to his knees, a dazed expression on his pale face. After balancing for a split second, his body then collapsed forward, finally crumpling on the floor with a dull thud.

Neither Brennan nor Booth moved from where they stood, staring mutely at the pool of crimson liquid that seeped into the faded carpet. Eventually the stain seemed to stop growing and Booth lowered his gun, replacing it mechanically in its holster while his mind still reeled from what he'd seen.

Her partner's movement appeared to prompt Temperance, and she moved over to the body while Booth spoke under his breath, addressing the dead man, "You son of a bitch..." She looked over at him quizzically and he shook his head as he explained, still shell-shocked, "He should've been questioned... He might have known something..."

More out of habit than necessity, Brennan crouched by the body, feeling carefully for a pulse. Finding none, she glanced up at Booth with a slight shake of the head and he sighed softly in annoyance, "Bastard. He shouldn't have gotten to go like that."

"It doesn't matter now," Brennan replied, her voice sounding somehow absent. "He's dead; there's nothing we can do about that."

Her words did nothing to placate him. Turning away from the body, he ran his hand through his hair before punching the wall with the other, still angered by the injustice and unfairness of the outcome as well as the fact that he'd been unable to prevent it.

Brennan jumped on hearing the sound of his fist collide with the hard wall and she spoke compassionately, "Booth..."

He didn't turn around and she stood swiftly, intending to move over to him, but her body had other ideas. As soon as she was standing, she felt her head start to spin, her injuries protesting against her sudden movement. Dizziness overcame her and she dropped heavily to her knees, fighting hard against the waves of nausea which caused her to sway unsteadily. Disoriented, she put her hands down to help her balance, barely noticing the blood on the ground as her vision started to become blurred.

"Booth..."

It took her a few moments to realise that the weak cry was her own, hardly able to hear over the sound of the blood rushing in her ears. Desperate for some stability, she started to lower herself to the floor, needing to feel some sort of solid ground in order to stop herself from collapsing.

However, before she could lie down, she felt strong hands grasping her upper arms and lifting her back to her feet. Unable to force her eyes to focus, she let him lead her shakily across the room, resting the majority of her weight on his arms as she was lowered onto a soft seat. Grateful for the sitting position, Temperance again craved stability, wanting something to keep her upright, and as Booth sat next to her, her body relaxed against his chest with her head resting tiredly on his shoulder.

She could think of nothing until the dizziness in her head subsided, but as she came round, she felt Booth's hand stroking her hair and heard the low rumble in his chest as he spoke soothingly, "It's okay, just take deep breaths. You're going to be alright, Bones; just keep breathing." His calming words had the desired effect and she raised her head slowly, wondering how long he had been talking without her being aware of it.

As Brennan righted herself, Booth moved round to kneel in front of her, holding her shoulders gently. Her eyes finally managed to focus on his face and she was immediately struck by his concerned expression as he asked softly, "Are you okay? Are you with me?"

She offered him a slight smile as she answered quietly, "Yes and yes. I-" She stopped, seeing the bloodstains covering his blue shirt for the first time. Looking back up at him, she asked, worried, "Are you hurt? What happened?"

Booth gave her an easy smile. "It's not mine." He lifted her palms to face her and Brennan saw to her surprise that they were covered in a thin layer of dried blood. "You put your hands in Smith's blood when you fell over," he explained, his voice low and comforting. "You wiped most of it on me when I brought you to the couch."

Feeling slightly foolish, Temperance looked down. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin your shirt."

"Bones, out of all the things I have to worry about, the shirt is way down on the list." He tilted her chin back up to face him and she saw he was smiling, but the concern still lingered in his eyes. "Want to guess what's on top?"

She rolled her eyes, knowing the answer, and Booth read it as a reply, "Yep, that would be you. What happened to you?"

"I stood up too fast," she replied simply. He opened his mouth to object but she cut him off, "Look, Smith hit me before and coupled with my earlier head injury, it just means I'm prone to dizziness at the moment. Thank you for your help, but it's nothing to worry about - it passes quickly."

He sighed to himself. "I wasn't just talking about the dizziness, Bones. What happened with Smith?"

Fully aware that's what he'd meant, she recounted the events reluctantly, "He started saying things about your kidnapping. I told him to get out and when he refused, I went to leave but he stopped me. I tried to fight him off, but he shoved me to the floor and held his gun on me." She paused briefly. "You know the rest."

Booth nodded grimly, before asking again, "Did he hurt you?"

She met his eyes, knowing there was no right answer to that question. "Not badly."

"That's not an answer," he replied, studying her face for fresh injuries. She watched his eyes linger on her bleeding lip before traveling downwards. She closed her eyes in anticipation and heard the expected intake of breath as his gaze reached her reddened neck.

"Bones..." he whispered, horrified, as he moved her hair over her shoulder, letting the dim light fall on the finger-shaped bruises ribbing her throat. She stared at the floor, determined not to show him how shaken she was by the incident, but she couldn't stop herself looking up as he said sincerely, his voice filled with guilt, "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," she replied tiredly but Booth shook his head.

"Don't give me that. We both know that I shouldn't have left you alone with him. Hell, I practically locked the two of you in here together." He looked up at her, now sounding more angry with himself than guilty. "I had no idea he'd try something like this. I thought he was a decent guy; loud, sure, but decent. I should've checked, I should've known..."

She put her hand on his arm, interrupting firmly, "Do you really think that I believe you knowingly left me with a killer? Of course you had no idea he'd try this, and I don't for a second think you'd intentionally put me in danger."

"But I did put you in danger," he countered, emphasising his point. "Intentional or not, I said I'd take care of you and I let you get hurt."

Temperance sighed. "Stop the self-pity." Booth looked at her in surprise and she continued, "You were here when I needed you, okay? You stopped him shooting me and I'm more than grateful for that, but no-one expects you to be able to do everything." Her tone softened slightly as she met the eyes of the man kneeling in front of her. "I'm your partner, Booth, your equal. Not your child. We work best together and that shouldn't change just because our relationship has." She gave him a small smile. "You don't need to try to be Wonderman."

She saw some of his anxiety dissipate as an involuntary smile played on his lips. "There isn't a Wonderman, Bones. There's a Superman, and a Wonderwoman."

"Well, you don't need to be either," she stated, unwilling to admit her ignorance.

Booth grinned and leaned in closer, "Thanks for the permission. Although, you've got to admit, you'd love to see me in tights and a cape." She frowned in confusion, and he waved away the suggestion. "Never mind." A mischievous glint crept into his eyes as he asked suggestively, "Well, if you're not going to let me play Superman anymore, the least you can do is let me kiss you better."

"I'm fairly sure kisses have no healing properties," she replied teasingly, but Booth merely moved in, lowering his mouth to her neck.

"You've obviously not had mine," he answered cockily. "Parker swears by them."

Before she could object, she felt his lips brush lightly against the bruises on her neck. She tilted her head to the side, allowing him better access as he traced the long marks along her throat. Normally, Temperance felt a rush of heat through her body when his lips caressed her skin, but on her hot, swollen throat, the moist, gentle touch of his mouth seemed to have the opposite effect, soothing her and taking her active mind away from her aching neck.

As he moved up towards the contusion on her forehead, she said playfully, "I hope you don't kiss your son like that."

Booth chuckled and she felt his hot breath tickle the sensitive skin on her temple. "What can I say," he whispered, his smile evident in his voice. "You get special treatment."

With that, he continued, and Brennan closed her eyes as he gave her head wound the same treatment, leaving a trail of kisses around the bruise before moving down to the slight cut on her lip. Cupping her face with his right hand, he delicately wiped the blood away with his thumb. Her eyes remained closed as his lips finally met hers. He kissed her tenderly, as he had elsewhere, but this time Temperance felt the familiar rush of warmth and couldn't stop herself from pressing harder, ignoring the pain in her lip as her tongue slid inside his mouth and her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers playing intimately with his hair.

Booth's hands were just beginning to make their way up Brennan's back when the sudden clatter of the door being opened jolted them back to earth. Quickly they broke apart, each wiping their mouths guiltily as they looked up at the person who had just entered.

They watched with a hint of amusement as a puzzled look appeared on Agent Harry Sampson's pink face. His eyes moved down from their faces to see that Booth was still kneeling between Brennan's legs and his complexion managed to reach a shade of red normally reserved for lobsters and ladybugs. Without saying a word, his gaze then took in their blood-stained clothing before shifting over to the floor where he finally saw the lifeless body of Special Agent Mark Smith.

Looking back at the pair on the couch, who offered no explanation, Harry merely nodded mutely, vaguely aware that he was gaping like a goldfish, before saying nervously, "I'll go get Cullen."

Receiving a nod of encouragement from Booth, he turned and hurried back out of the door in a manner that could only be described as a retreat. Watching him go, Booth turned his attention back to Brennan with a sigh. "Cullen's on his way."

Brennan nodded and said, equally reluctantly, "We'll have to go make a statement." She looked down at their bloody clothes. "These should be collected as evidence."

Getting to his feet, Booth offered her a quick grin, "You just want to see me with my shirt off." Brennan rolled her eyes and he said, seriously, "I'll see what I can do about clean ones after I've taken you back down to the medics."

"Booth, I don't need to go to the medics again," she protested, a hint of whining in her voice.

"You almost passed out in a pool of blood a few minutes ago, which I'm fairly certain is not a good sign."

"It wasn't _my_ blood," she objected.

Her pout was met by a grin from Booth. "Nice try, Bones. Now, I know you don't like the medics here, and I'm pretty sure the feeling's mutual, but you need to get checked out. Of course, if you refuse to go, I will have to carry you, but my ankle's not too great at the moment and you may cripple me for life. Sad but true."

Brennan cursed herself for being so easily persuaded but relented nonetheless, "Fine. When we're finished here, I'll go."

Booth dropped down on the couch next to her with a satisfied grin. Glancing over at him, she added with a smile, "They'd better have taken your shirt into evidence by then."


	8. Settling In

Yawning sleepily, Temperance Brennan paced around the small interrogation room, shrugging her shoulders to try and ease some of the stiffness in her tired body. She stared at herself in the large two-way mirror and was surprised to see just how pale her face was and how much the dark bags under her eyes stood out, even in the dimly lit room.

As she faced the mirror, she could hear Booth's angry shouts outside in the corridor, coupled with equally loud retorts from his boss and she guessed they were talking about her. Once they had finished with the medics, Cullen had ordered them both to get some clean clothes and some sleep, since they were both exhausted from the efforts of the evening and could not be actively involved in the investigation.

Booth had refused to have armed guards watching them as they slept in the beds in the medical bay, not trusting anybody after what had happened with Agent Smith. Instead, he and Cullen had agreed that they could set up beds in a room that locked, to ensure there were no unexpected visitors in the night. However, rooms that locked were in short supply in the Hoover building and left with the choice of an interrogation room or a holding cell, both Booth and Brennan had quickly agreed on the less jail-like of the two.

While Temperance had been left to make herself comfortable in the small, dark and remarkably cell-like interrogation room, Booth had headed into the corridor with Cullen to discuss possible ways to proceed in the morning. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but from the volume of the conversation, she guessed that it wasn't going well.

Her attempts to eavesdrop were foiled as the door opened and Agent Sampson entered, his head peeking out over a large pile of blankets, pillows and clothes. Dropping his cargo on the floor with a gasp of relief, he offered her a small smile and a respectful nod, "Sorry to disturb you, Dr Brennan, but the Deputy Director said to bring these in here for you and Agent Booth."

Giving him a grateful smile, she replied, "Thank you, Agent...?"

"Sampson," he quickly supplied. "But please, call me Harry. Everybody else does."

"Thank you, Harry."

He made no move to leave. Raising her eyebrows, she asked bluntly, "Did you want something?"

"Your shirt," Harry answered, equally bluntly. Seeing her look of surprise, he stammered, "Uh, I mean, I was told to collect it as evidence. Because of all the blood. I brought you a spare one though." He rummaged through the pile to find a large navy gym tee with FBI written across it in yellow letters and handed it to her with a shy smile.

Smiling patiently, she took the shirt and motioned to Harry, "Could you turn round?"

Blushing, he rotated himself in a semi-circle and said apologetically, "Sorry, Ma'am. I mean, Doctor."

Brennan still made no move to put the shirt on. "Could you turn round and not be looking in the mirror, Agent?"

Harry suddenly realised that he had positioned himself directly in front of the large mirror, giving him a perfect view of Brennan, and he hurriedly moved to another wall, looking down in embarrassment. "Sorry."

Satisfied that he couldn't see, she quickly changed into the t-shirt, depositing her other in the evidence bag provided and hoping that Booth had kept his word about locking the door that led to the other side of the two-way mirror. When she'd finished, she called to the agent, "Thank you, Harry. You can take this now."

Turning round tentatively, he took the bag and set it by the door. Oblivious to Brennan's desire for him to leave, he then busied himself with constructing two make-shift beds on the floor. As he did so, he asked casually, "Are you and Agent Booth sleeping together?"

"I don't see how that's your business," she responded tersely and Harry's eyes widened as he realised what he'd asked.

"I'm sorry!" he said panicked, his palms starting to perspire. "I just meant will you be sharing a bed in here or should I make up two separate ones?"

Feeling slightly guilty for snapping at him, Temperance spoke calmly, "Just leave the blankets here; I can make up the beds."

"It's okay, Dr Brennan," Harry replied cheerfully, "I need to wait to take Agent Booth's shirt too, so I might as well be useful while I'm here."

He continue to busy himself with the beds, while Temperance watched, torn between wishing to be on her own and not wanting to order the well-meaning young agent out of the room. Eventually the polite side of her won out and she settled comfortably on the table in the corner, thinking that Booth's social courtesy was starting to rub off on her.

She immediately regretted her decision when Harry asked conversationally, "So, what happened with the kidnapping? After Marco Dellato was released, I mean. Obviously, Agent Booth's alive, but did everything go smoothly?"

Unsure of how to respond, Brennan did her best to maintain a relaxed demeanour, but her mind instinctively flashed back to the beginning of the conversation she'd had with Mark Smith and she tried to quell the panic that rose up inside her. "I'd prefer not to discuss that, Agent Sampson."

Harry looked down with a nod, slightly hurt by her unexpected refusal. "Of course, Dr Brennan. I was just curious what happened after you called me, but I didn't mean to intrude."

 _I called him?_ Brennan wondered, surprised by his remark. _When did I-_ Her eyes widened as the memory of the phone call and Harry's role in the proceedings returned to her, and for the second time in as many minutes she felt guilty for the way she'd spoken to him. Putting her head in her hands, she said quietly, "I'm sorry, Agent Sampson; I'd forgotten that you'd released Marco Dellato for me."

Giving her another shy smile as he straightened the blankets, Harry nodded graciously, "I'm sure you had more important things to think about at the time."

Doing her best to make conversation with the man she barely knew but owed a lot to, she asked with concern, "You didn't get in trouble for that, did you?"

The young man shrugged slightly, wiping his moist forehead with his shirt sleeve. "Cullen asked me a few questions and they looked over my case histories." Seeing Brennan's look of concern, he gave her a friendly smile. "It's not as bad as it sounds. I've only been here a few months so the review only lasted a couple of hours. They gave me a warning, but no fines or suspension so I'm happy."

As he started to place the pillows carefully on the makeshift beds, he asked with interest, "Is Agent Booth coping okay with what happened to him? I mean, I've only heard rumors about what they did, but everyone's seen his broken ankle, and he seems to be a lot quieter since he came back."

He looked up at Temperance and seeing that his eyes were filled with genuine concern for her partner, she replied confidently, "I'm sure he's fine, Agent Sampson. His wounds are still healing, but he's seems to be coping well." She gave him a reassuring smile, but knew that she honestly had no idea how Booth was coping. _How does he know whether Booth is having problems and I don't?_ she thought, almost bitterly.

Oblivious to Brennan's internal debate, Harry Sampson continued in his observations, "It's just that he seems kind of quiet nowadays. Maybe he's just very busy, but he's hardly ever out of his office. I'm not a doctor or anything, but it could be that he's traumatised by what happened. Not that Agent Booth is easily frightened by stuff, but I remember when my dad got in a car accident and he was too scared to get behind the wheel for weeks afterwards, which was a real problem since he sells second-hand cars and he couldn't go on any test drives or anything."

Pausing for breath, he glanced over at the anthropologist and saw that she was staring at the floor, evidently lost in thought. Walking over to her, he asked gently, "Everything alright, Dr Brennan?" She gave no reply and he shifted nervously where he stood, unsure of what to say.

Finally, he ventured, "I'm sure Agent Booth is fine though. I mean, he didn't look that badly hurt, and he's got you to talk to if he's got problems." He considered this statement. "Well, not that you don't both have problems now, but at least you've got each other." He patted her comfortingly on the arm, but was taken aback when she looked up at him, eyebrows raised.

"Sorry," he stammered, backing away in fear. "I didn't mean... I'll just..."

At that moment, the door swung open and both Harry and Brennan visibly relaxed when they saw Booth walk in. Harry was the first to speak, eager to get his evidence and get gone before he unintentionally offended anyone else, "Can I have your shirt please, Agent Booth?" Booth looked at him questioningly and Harry added quickly, "For evidence."

Sighing tiredly, Booth quickly unbuttoned his now bloody dress shirt and shrugged it off his shoulders, dropping it in the brown paper bag Harry brandished in front of him. "Is there anything else, Harry?" he asked simply.

Harry didn't reply as his eyes involuntarily traveled across Booth's torso, staring at the many green and yellow bruises that still remained after two weeks and he mentally recanted his earlier statement that the senior agent didn't look that badly hurt.

"Harry," Booth prompted again, louder this time, and the younger man quickly snapped out of his pity-trance.

"Um, that's it, Sir," he said, backing out of the room. "There are spare clothes over there and, um, have a good night." He saw Brennan look at him with surprise and corrected, "But obviously not like that." He looked back over to Booth. "Unless you want to. Which is clearly your decision and I will go and leave you both to it." He realised what he'd said. "Not that kind of _it_. Decision _it_ , not it _it_. Well, maybe it _it_ , but after decision _it_ if that's what you so decide."

Nodding in satisfaction, he dashed out of the room, clutching the paper bags and making a note that when in a hole, one should stop digging.

Booth smirked as Harry disappeared through the door and turned to find a spare shirt, speaking to Brennan as he did so, "That would be Harry. Nice kid, but tends to talk too much when he's nervous. And he's nearly always nervous."

Temperance said nothing as he moved to put on a matching gym t-shirt, unable to take her eyes off his bruised body. She remembered the feel of his muscles as she had run her hand down his shirt and it seemed unsettling to think that he could feel so strong but look so injured. However, what she saw on his chest was nothing compared to what she had glimpsed when he'd had his back to her.

The stitches had come out more than a week ago, but the thin red marks on his back still stood out against his tanned skin. They criss-crossed all the way down his spine, acting as an ugly reminder of what he had suffered at the hands of the same family that they were now being threatened by again. Temperance bit her lip, almost wincing on his behalf at the thought of the whip strokes that caused the injuries and was relieved when Booth slid the t-shirt on, hiding the marks from view.

"What did Cullen say?" she asked curiously, wanting something else to think about.

Sighing heavily, Booth sat down on the table beside her, "Do you want the good news or the bad news?"


	9. Decisions, Decisions

"Bad news."

Brennan's voice was calm as always, but her body language betrayed how anxious she was. Sitting on the table, less than a foot away from her partner, she stared straight forward, actively avoiding his gaze. Her hands were tucked underneath her and her shoulders were hunched, as though trying to make herself as small as possible to avoid any contact with Booth.

Respecting her implicit wishes, Booth kept his distance and repeated the information he had been told, trying to keep his voice business-like and clinical as he knew she would prefer. "Cullen's confirmed that the Dellatos have put a hit out on you."

"Two people have tried to kill me tonight already, Booth; that's hardly news."

"Right, sorry," he apologised quickly. "The hands, eyes and tongue thing is apparently the calling card of the Dellato brothers from New York. They remove the eyes if the victim saw something they shouldn't, the hands if they handed over evidence to the cops and the tongue if they spoke against them in court. And by their count, you did all three."

Brennan nodded, not looking at her partner. "And the good news?"

"Your squints are safe," he answered simply. "Even though they testified in court, Tony and Carlo have a reputation for only killing if completely necessary. Obviously their definition of necessary is slightly skewed, but in this case, they'll make a point of just targeting the one they view as the leader, implying that everyone else is beneath them."

She laughed mirthlessly to herself, her voice filled with disbelief, "So I should be flattered that they want to kill me?"

Booth's eyes dropped to the floor again. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I just thought that you'd be glad to know they weren't in danger."

Rubbing her eyes tiredly, she replied, a hint of guilt in her voice, "You're right, that is good news." Already knowing the answer, she asked matter-of-factly, "Does that apply to you too? Are they going to leave you alone?"

He nodded slightly, hating that he was isolating her like this. "Yeah," he said softly. "They only want you."

Dropping her head, Temperance asked quietly, "So what do I do? What did Cullen say?"

Eyes fixed forward, Booth continued to relay the information, feeling his heart sink as he did so, "From what the New York department said, the brothers seem pretty relentless. They'll keep sending people after you until they get what they want. Luca Dellato's still got contacts everywhere, even after his family were arrested, so there's no guarantee that you're safe at home or the Jeffersonian, or even here."

"I know that, Booth," she replied coldly. "I didn't ask for a reminder of how easy it is for them to get to me; I asked what Cullen thinks I should do."

"You should hide," he said, more bluntly than he intended. "Cullen's got units looking for the Dellatos since he thinks he's got enough to at least hold them for questioning. New York are sending down all the evidence they've got and he's doing everything he can to prove they were connected to what happened to you tonight. Once they're in custody, you should be safe enough to go back home or to work."

"How long's it going to take for them to find them?" Temperance questioned with a hint of resignation.

"I don't know," he replied with a sigh. "They really don't want to be found. It could take weeks, maybe longer."

His partner nodded again, still not looking at him. "What do I do till then?"

"This is what I was talking to Cullen about," Booth began, both of them aware that it was more of an argument than a talk. "As far as he sees it, you have two choices. You can either go into Witness Protection, or you can go to a safehouse."

Brennan fell silent, and he could see she was weighing up the options. Looking over at her, he asked gently, "Tell me what you're thinking."

Barely acknowledging his presence, she began to speak, verbalising her thought processes, "A safehouse would be a good place to lie low for a while, and I wouldn't need to make any permanent changes. But I'd be under FBI protection there, and after tonight, I'm not so sure that would be a good idea."

Booth looked down, feeling the familiar guilt rise up at her comment while she continued in her debate, "Witness Protection may be safer; US Marshalls have a good reputation for efficiency. But I'd have to give up everything - my job, my work, my friends - and still there's no guarantee that the Dellatos don't have someone on the inside there too."

Sighing in defeat, she looked over at Booth for the first time since the conversation had begun, asking sincerely, "What do you think I should do?"

Trying to hide his surprise at the question, Booth met her eyes, answering with equal honesty, "I don't know. If it were up to me, I wouldn't let you out of my sight, but it's your choice. I'll support you, whatever you choose, but I'm not going to pressure you either way." He gave her a small smile. "It's your call, Temperance."

Hearing him call her by her given name, Brennan looked more intently at her partner, knowing that this wasn't his usual behavior. His face was blank, but his eyes told her loud and clear that neither option would make him happy. Shaking her head, she turned back around, unable to choose.

Booth saw that she was struggling and spoke again, his voice lighter, "You don't need to decide now. We're safe in here till morning; get some rest and think again when you wake up." He slid off the table, standing carefully on his ankle which had been aggravated by the earlier running, and stretched tiredly before giving her the most relaxed smile he could muster. "You even get the excitement of sleeping in an interrogation room."

She didn't return the smile and he pressed on, moving to stand in front of her, "Come on, you can't tell me that you've never sat in here and thought "Hmm, wonder what it would be like to sleep on this floor"?"

"Booth..." she interrupted, her voice and expression making it clear that he wasn't persuading her.

Realising that he wasn't getting anywhere, he switched tactics, moving closer to her as he spoke with concern, "Look, Bones, I know this is a lot to take in, but you need to sleep. In the last few hours, you've fought off a attacker at your apartment, threatened the entire FBI medical team and nearly been shot by a dirty agent who then killed himself in front of you. You're exhausted." She opened her mouth to protest. "And don't even think about arguing with me; I can see those circles under your eyes." He cupped her face gently. "Go to sleep. Please."

His words had an almost hypnotic quality and Brennan found that she could barely keep her eyes open. She nodded reluctantly and Booth smiled, kissing her softly on the forehead. "Thank you." He stepped back and picked up a pair of gym shorts from the floor, handing them to her as she stood. "Put these on and get under the covers. You'll be asleep in no time."

He turned away to find something for him to wear, but turned back as he heard her call softly, "Booth?" She stood in front of him awkwardly, her fingers playing with a loose thread on the shorts as she struggled to find the words she wanted to say. "Thank you," she finally ventured quietly, "For the shorts, and the bed, and..."

"My pleasure," Booth said with a soft smile, knowing what she was trying to say and how difficult it was for her to say it. His grin became more playful as he added, "But you know, the best way to thank me would be to go to sleep."

The corners of her lips curved up for the first time since he'd entered the room and she gratefully began unfastening her skirt, letting it drop to the ground. Unsure if she was comfortable with him watching, Booth turned away to remove his jeans, before manoeuvring the provided sweatpants over his bandaged ankle and tying them low on his waist.

Ready for bed, he turned back to Brennan and his eyes widened when he saw that she was still removing her stockings. He couldn't help but watch as her pale fingers slipped under the dark lace circling her thigh, slowly pushing the remaining stocking down her slim leg, exposing more of her creamy skin as it went. She slid it carefully over her foot, before putting it neatly in the pile with her other discarded clothes and turning back to face Booth, clad only in black lingerie and an over-sized t-shirt that brushed against the tops of her thighs as she moved.

Realising his mouth was open, Booth quickly closed it, diverting his gaze as he stammered, "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

Brennan waved away his apology, a genuine smile on her face. "It's alright. I was kind of expecting to undress in front of you tonight anyway, just not in these circumstances."

Her reply did nothing to help the problems Booth was currently having. Returning the smile, he moved over to the makeshift bed that Harry Sampson had created and was surprised to see that it looked reasonably comfortable. Temperance seemed to share his opinion as she sat carefully on the covered floor, bringing the blanket over her with a contented sigh while Booth waited by the light-switch, after locking the door for the night. Looking up at him with tired blue eyes, she asked sleepily, "Aren't you coming?"

Desperate for the cover of darkness, he gladly clicked the light off and made his way towards the pile of blankets on the floor. Lowering himself down, he felt Brennan shift next to him, finding a comfortable position as he lay down beside her. Uncertain of the contact boundaries for a couple who had done little more than kiss but were now sharing a bed, Booth stayed firmly on his side, not wanting to do anything inappropriate.

To his surprise, he felt her move closer towards him and he wrapped his arm tentatively around her shoulder as she curled up against him, an embrace more of comfort than romance. In the silence of the interrogation room, both of them could hear their breathing fall into time as they felt the rise and fall of each other's chests. The steady sound was interrupted as Booth tilted his head to the side, whispering into Brennan's ear, "I think I have another option for you to consider for tomorrow..."

* * *

Checking his watch, Sam Cullen strode down the corridor to the interrogation rooms, a mixture of fear and annoyance in his gut. It was now 9.30am and neither Booth nor Brennan had emerged from their temporary bedroom yet. After repeated attempts to wake them had failed, Cullen himself had been forced to come down to unlock the door, not wanting anyone else to go near Dr Brennan and risk being throttled by her over-protective partner.

As he reached their door, he hoped fervently that he would just have to reprimand the agent for being such a heavy sleeper, instead of discovering that, despite the precautions, one of the Dellatos' assassins had succeeded in their task.

"Please God let them be sleeping, not dead," he muttered under his breath as he slid the key in the lock and pushed open the windowless door.

The sight that greeted him was not what he expected.

The interrogation room was empty, save for the pile of blankets and pillows in the center which had obviously been slept in, albeit briefly. Looking around in disbelief, Cullen's mind immediately leapt to the possibility of kidnap, but this fear was allayed as he looked more closely at the room. There were no signs of a struggle, no blood anywhere and the door had clearly not been forced.

Scanning the floor, he saw that Booth and Brennan's shoes were missing and he reached the conclusion that had been staring him in the face from the moment he entered.

"Booth, you son of a bitch," he murmured angrily into the empty room. "Where the hell have you run to?"


	10. Gone

"What the hell do you mean she's gone?"

Tony Dellato looked over to where the angry shout had come from, and replied, equally annoyed, "I mean she's gone. Disappeared. Vamoosed. What, you want a diagram?"

Carlo pushed himself off his large leather chair, standing nose to nose with his older brother. "How can she have gone? She was at the FBI, people were watching her, she was even staying in an interrogation room - where's she supposed to have gone?"

"Do I look like I know?" Tony yelled back, frustrated. Taking a deep breath and a step back, he held up his phone, gripping it tightly as he explained, "All he said was that there was no-one in the room this morning. The FBI checked the surveillance footage and it looks like she left around 6 this morning with her boyfriend."

"Well, he's an agent, isn't he? Get one of your contacts to find out where he took her."

The elder shook his head. "He wasn't ordered to take her anywhere."

Carlo raised his eyebrows. "They ran away?" Getting a nod from his brother, he turned away in anger. "Son of a bitch."

"The Feds are looking for them as well," Tony informed him. "They found an FBI vehicle that the boyfriend borrowed sitting outside his apartment, but when they searched the place itself they couldn't find anyone. They checked her place out too and my guy said that there were clothes and food missing from both apartments. They left their cell phones, car keys, ID, everything else important."

"Credit cards?" he asked hopefully.

Tony shook his head with a grim smile. "They took at least one card each, but the Bureau pulled their records and they both withdrew $200 on every card they had as soon as they left the Hoover building this morning. They won't be needing to use them for a while."

"What about transport?" his younger brother pressed. "How did they get away?"

"They don't know," Tony replied irritably. "Their cars were still there and the FBI are checking surveillance footage at nearby bus and train station-"

"Friends!" Carlo interrupted suddenly. "Have they asked their friends where they might have gone?"

Tony fixed him with a withering stare. "It's the Federal Bureau of Investigation, jackass. I think they know to ask their friends."

"Well if it's the Federal Bureau of Investigation," he repeatedly mockingly, "why are we so concerned? They can find her and we can kill her. Easy."

Rolling his eyes, the elder brother wondered how brains could be so unevenly distributed in the family. Speaking slowly, he explained, "They _can't_ find her, genius. Do you think I'd be worried if they could? That goddamn boyfriend of hers knows what the FBI will be looking for and how to avoid leaving a trail. The Feds have got nothing to go on, and if they can't find her, there's no chance that we're going to be able to on our own."

Carlo shook his head. "Their cash will run out eventually and they'll have to contact their families sooner or later. They can't hide forever."

"They don't need to. They're not the only ones the FBI are looking for, remember?" he said with a sigh. "If they find us first, then Temperance Brennan will be able to return home safe and sound." He kicked a nearby chair angrily. "We should never have left New York. This was supposed to be a quick trip, help out the family, kill one woman, get paid, then go home. Now we've got one contact dead, the FBI after us because you were stupid enough to trust that Tom guy your buddy recommended, and to top it all, our mark's gone into hiding with her agent boyfriend. I don't see why Luca even wanted us down here - it's not like we can get Gina, Marco and Sal out of jail."

"Retribution."

Both Tony and Carlo turned as the cold voice of Luca Dellato rang out through the spacious lounge. He walked over to them, sitting calmly in the large chair vacated by Carlo, his hair slicked back and his dark eyes glinting as he spoke, "I called you down here to make Temperance Brennan pay for what she did to our family. I have no interest in releasing my brothers and sister from jail; this is purely about upholding the family name."

Sighing irritably, Tony rounded on his younger cousin speaking sarcastically, "Yeah, and that's working out so well. Both men so far have failed to kill her, the doctor has now run off with her boyfriend and the Feds are looking for us. Not what I'd call successful."

Luca fixed the older man with a steely gaze, clearly not worried about the situation. As though reassuring a child, he said simply, "The FBI have nothing to charge you with. Even if they do find you here, they have no evidence to link you to the attempts on her life."

"How do we know they won't come knocking on the door any minute?" Carlo piped up. "What if they found something? What if they find out we're here?"

"They won't," he replied confidently, still unphased. "And as for this apartment, it's not in my name; I received it as a gift from a concerned friend."

"You mean you forced some rich bastard to hand it over to you," Tony spat, well aware of how the DC branch of the family operated and where their priorities lay.

Luca smiled darkly, maintaining his cool exterior but beginning to regret entrusting this work to his cousins. Moving on from the discussion of the lavish apartment, he continued to address their earlier concerns, "Agent Smith ended his own life and Tom Harris has no proof that you gave him his orders, correct?" Tony and Carlo nodded mutely and he pressed on, "Regarding Dr Brennan, the plan has not changed. With my help and contacts, you will find her, kill her, and then go back to New York, with your family debt fully repaid."

"We're not your goddamn lackies!" Carlo yelled angrily, unable to stomach his younger cousin giving him orders.

The seated man merely laughed softly, before replying with a cold voice, "Yes, you are. Your father double-crossed mine, and you agreed to right his wrongs. Call yourselves what you like, but you will finish what you started; I cannot afford to get my hands dirty with this. You kill Temperance Brennan for me, utilising as many of my sources and connections as necessary, and I will give you the money that you asked me for, no further questions asked."

He paused, raising his eyebrows. "Of course, if you no longer want to fulfill our bargain, I will find other people to help me achieve me goal." He smirked. "Good luck finding someone to help you with yours."

Knowing he was beaten, Tony spoke reluctantly, "Alright. We'll do it, but how in God's name are we supposed to find the woman? She and her boyfriend have disappeared off the face of the Earth by all accounts."

Luca smiled again, shaking his head at his cousin's stupidity. "We ask someone who knows where they are."

"No-one knows where they are!" Carlo shouted again. "That's what a disappearance is." Echoing his brother's earlier words, he added mockingly, "What, you need a diagram?"

Fixing Carlo with a contemptuous glare, Luca managed to keep his temper as he replied ominously, "Do you really think she won't have even said goodbye to her friends?"

Tony stepped forward, worrying about the consequences of what his cousin was thinking. "No way. This was one quick kill - we are not going to take out a whole group of people." Luca opened his mouth to speak, but Tony added quickly, "And we ain't kidnapping them either. That may be how you like to work, but we prefer to be a little more direct."

"And that's clearly worked out so well for you," Luca said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But I'm not asking you to kill her friends, or kidnap them." His eyes glinted as he added with a smile, "There's a much easier way."

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want me to drive?" Brennan asked with concern as their spluttering Buick Roadmaster pulled back out onto the highway.

"Bones, I always drive," Booth replied confidently, his tone as light-hearted as he could manage. "Just because we're on the run doesn't mean these things change, you know."

His playfulness wasn't contagious and she asked again, "Are you sure? I mean, with your ankle..."

"It's fine," he shot back with a grin. "They helpfully broke my left one, meaning I'm still good to drive."

Accepting his answer, Brennan came up with a new question as she looked at her bags in the back seats. "Did we definitely leave our cell phones? I know that they can triangulate the signal and work out where we are if they have-"

"Yes, we left them, Bones," he interrupted. "We've been through this already. I've got a new cell phone under a fake name in case we need to call for help, Harry borrowed this heap of junk from his dad's used car business, so there shouldn't be any way to trace the car, and we're going somewhere remote enough for no-one to notice us."

"Is it alright for us to be using your sister-in-law's house?" she questioned, anxiously. "Can't the FBI track us there?"

Sighing, Booth replied calmly, "First off, it's her holiday home, not her actual house, so it's in a fairly remote location. The deeds are in her father's name, so it's unlikely that the Bureau will check it. Also, she's in Europe with my brother till spring, so she won't be using it and won't know that we're using it."

Frowning in confusion, Brennan inquired, "Do you have a key?"

"Not exactly."

"Booth!" she reprimanded, annoyed. "We're breaking in to your sister-in-law's house?"

"Look, we're hiding, okay? I can't exactly call her up and ask if we can use her house as a shelter from the mob." Seeing the expression on her face, his tone softened. "I'm sorry, but no-one can know where we are. Please, just trust me on this."

Temperance gave no reply, staring out of the window as the Virginia woods flew past outside. Suddenly she asked, her tone almost meek, "Will you be fired for doing this?"

"I don't know," her partner responded honestly, not taking his eyes off the road ahead. "Hopefully Cullen'll understand why I did it, but I don't know whether he'll fire me, shake my hand or have me arrested on kidnapping charges."

Her head whipped round to face him, worried. "Kidnapping charges?"

Booth glanced over at her with a smile. "It was a joke, Bones. Since you're sat in the passenger seat and not tied up in the trunk, I'm fairly certain I haven't kidnapped you." She didn't return the smile and he reached over to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, speaking gently, "Hey, it's okay. We're going to be fine; you made the right choice."

"Did I?" she asked harshly. "I'm driving to the middle of nowhere, I'm going against the recommendations of the deputy-director of the FBI and I'm now putting you in as much danger as me. Maybe Witness Protection was a better option after all."

"No," he answered firmly, looking over at her again. "Witness Protection and a Federal safehouse both carried risks of further attacks. At least this way you're with someone you can trust. If there are any problems, I've got a phone we can use, and I've got my guns in case of emergency. I'm not going to let anything happen to you, I promise."

"It's not just me I'm worried about," she said softly, staring out of the window again. "Booth, if they find me here, then you're in just as much danger as I am. It doesn't seem fair."

"They're not going to find you," he replied confidently. "Anyway, since when is it "fair" that they want to kill you?" She looked down and his hand moved back to her shoulder as he spoke sincerely, "Temperance, I am not about to leave you to deal with this on your own. You put yourself in danger to save me last time and what kind of partner would I be if I didn't return the favor?"

She glanced up at him and he gave her a small grin, trying to lighten the tone. "Plus, I am not letting you change your mind now and deprive me of a long vacation in the woods." Brennan rolled her eyes, a smile playing on her lips. Seeing that it was working, Booth continued playfully, "I'm serious! It'll be great - climbing trees, going on hikes in secluded forests, stargazing on the terrace and, my personal favorite, cups of hot chocolate at bedtime with little pink marshmallows in."

Brennan's smirk had now become a full-blown smile as she repeated, eyebrows raised, "Little pink marshmallows?"

"An essential part of any holiday in the woods," Booth said knowledgeably. "And pink ones taste better than white."

"You do remember that we're in hiding, yes?" she inquired, still amused by his child-like enthusiasm.

"Yeah, I know," he replied with a shrug. Glancing over at her one more, he flashed her a grin indicating that his intentions were anything but child-like. "Doesn't mean we can't enjoy ourselves while we're there."


	11. Fear

Angela Montenegro was not happy.

First of all, she'd been woken up in the middle of the night by FBI agents pounding down her door to make sure she was okay. The agents had then proceeded to inform her that the ruthless mob family who had tortured Booth in order to force Brennan into an illegal evidence trade were now back and had attacked her best friend. This news was immediately followed by them telling her not to worry - advice that she neither needed nor appreciated.

After a sleepless night spent fearing for her and her friends' lives, Angela was not remotely soothed when the agents abruptly departed, reassuring her that the Dellatos only wanted to murder and mutilate her friend, and that she would be fine, but under minimal surveillance nonetheless. When they had left her alone, she'd exchanged frantic phone calls with Hodgins and Zach and discovered that none of them had been able to contact Booth or Brennan.

She'd eventually decided to go into work and try to find out some more information there, but before she could leave the house, she'd received a phone call from Brennan herself. However this only served to increase her anxiety as Brennan had told her that she and Booth were going into hiding and that she shouldn't attempt to contact them.

Worried about her friend, Angela had used all her persuasive skills to convince the anthropologist to give her the number of Booth's new cell phone, for use in emergencies only. In the end, Brennan had relented and divulged the number, on the condition she kept it secret and didn't call except in life or death situations. Agreeing eagerly, she'd taken the number and said goodbye to her friend, wishing her luck and telling her to stay safe.

It was only when more FBI agents came rushing into her office at 9.45am that she realised how seriously Brennan and Booth's situation was; they were not only hiding from the Dellato family, but from the entire Federal Bureau of Investigation too. Ever the good citizen, she'd told them that Brennan had indeed called her, but that it had been from a pay phone in the center of DC and that she hadn't left a contact number or address. After checking her email and phone records, the agents had seemed satisfied and returned to their headquarters, leaving Hodgins to listen to the concerns of a very anxious Angela, who was currently making it abundantly clear why she wasn't happy.

"How can they have just gone? I know Booth's capable, but after what happened last time, how can they seriously expect to defend themselves on their own if the Dellatos find them? Sure, Bren likes to shoot people, and Booth made a career out of shooting people, but still..."

"They'll be fine, Angela," Hodgins said in his most reassuring tone of voice. "They're together, they can contact us if they're in trouble, and I'm sure Booth's done this kind of thing before. They'll be okay."

He paused hopefully, waiting to see if Angela had calmed down.

"Okay?" She clearly hadn't as she continued, "The man's got a broken ankle! And Brennan was attacked tonight, so God knows what state she's in. This was such a bad idea..."

Taking a deep breath, Hodgins grabbed his girlfriend by the shoulders, looking her in the eyes and speaking seriously, "Angela, they will be fine. There's nothing we can do now anyway, except help the FBI to track down the Dellatos so that Brennan and Booth can come home. So stop worrying, okay?" He offered her a small smile. "Plus, this is Brennan we're talking about here. You just know she weighed up all the options and chosen the one which was least likely to result in any fatalities."

Despite herself, Angela couldn't help but smile a little at his comment. Giving him a reluctant nod, she relented, "Fine. I'll go get back to work." She moved to leave, but poked him in the chest before she went, "If anything happens to them, you do know I'm blaming you."

Her tone was one of a playful threat, but the look in her eyes as she spoke showed how worried she still was. Hodgins gave her a nervous nod and she walked quickly out, wanting to enjoy the false sense of comfort while it last.

The entomologist watched her go, wondering by what logic he was now responsible for whatever happened to the missing partners. Shaking his head, he turned back to his work, hoping that Angela had been deceived by his confident facade, and that she hadn't realised he was every bit as scared as she was.

* * *

"Bones! Where the hell are you?" Booth's voice became more and more agitated as he got no response. "Bones!"

"Out here." Her calm reply drifted across the spacious lounge and Booth all but sprinted out to find her, his heart pounding in irrational panic at her sudden absence. She didn't turn round as he emerged from the house onto the patio, just remained staring forward into the woods that surrounded the isolated lodge. Frowning in confusion, Booth walked slowly towards her, his breathing returning to normal as he perched on the lounger next to hers and studied her carefully.

He couldn't see anything physically wrong with her, other than the cuts and bruises from the previous evening, but her body language was practically screaming that she wasn't alright. Her legs were tucked up underneath her despite the space available on the lounger and her eyes were glazed, staring blankly at a point amidst the trees. Her hands played unconsciously with a hair tie, wrapping it round her fingers and stretching it in different directions just to give herself something to do.

Not taking his eyes off her, Booth asked softly, "You okay?"

She nodded slightly, but her eyes remained distant, barely acknowledging his presence.

Refusing to let her shut him out, Booth moved to sit on her lounger in the space left empty by her legs, breaking her gaze as he did so. She blinked as if seeing him for the first time, but answered his question more emphatically nonetheless, "I'm fine, Booth. It's just been a long day."

The agent checked his watch with a half-hearted smile. "It's 2.30 in the afternoon, Bones."

She dropped her eyes from his face, leaning back against the cushion as she spoke tiredly, "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know," he replied gently. Seeing that she was beginning to slip back into her previous melancholy, he decided to take a chance, stating simply, "You're scared."

The reaction was instantaneous. Her eyes shot up to meet his and he could almost see her whole body recoiling at the comment as she replied quickly and defensively, "I'm not scared."

"It wasn't a question," Booth said, his voice quiet but firm. "I'm not judging you for it, Bones; it's only natural after all that's happened. I'm just here to help, that's all."

"Help?" she repeated as though trying to decide whether to laugh at the incredulity of the situation or to yell at him for his patronising approach. "How are you supposed to help me, Booth?"

Unsure of the correct response, he met her eyes, not wanting to make her any more angry, "Look, talking helps, okay? All I'm saying is that I'm here to listen if you want." He put his hand on her shoulder. "Trust me, I know how you're feeling."

She laughed to herself, tipping her head back against the chair as she stared up at the sky. "Do you?" she asked harshly, no longer able to contain her annoyance. "So you know what it feels like to be attacked in your own home? To have to leave your friends and everything you've worked for while you wait for some lazy FBI agents to track down the people out to kill you? No, because you could go back any time you want; nobody wants to kill _you_." She shook her head. "So come on, Booth, how the hell can you possibly know how I'm feeling?"

There was silence for a moment after her outburst as Temperance tried to stop her heart from racing and Booth looked away awkwardly.

Finally he ventured quietly, "You're right." She said nothing, not having been expecting any response from him, but he clarified, "Nobody wants to kill me." He looked up at her, adding pointedly, "This time."

Realisation dawned and her shoulders sagged as guilt washed over her. "Booth, I-"

He cut her off, eyes never leaving hers. "You want to know why I understand how you're feeling? Because I felt just the same last time. Before they took me, I felt like I was trying to escape the inevitable; I knew they were coming and I thought there was no way I could ever avoid it. If I'd told you, maybe it would've happened differently, but that really doesn't matter now."

She opened her mouth to interrupt but Booth continued. His tone was not one of self-pity, but reminded Temperance of herself when she was analysing evidence - fully factual and analytical. "As for what it feels like to be attacked in your own home, I've pretty much got that covered too, only instead of managing to subdue the guys who attacked me, I seem to remember being led away at gunpoint. And when I was waiting for you to choose what would happen to me, I felt like you do now. Worried, dreading what's going to happen next, wondering if it can possibly be any worse than last time." He gave her a grim smile. "Am I close?"

Brennan nodded mutely, torn between pity for her partner and amazement that he was now verbalising exactly how she felt. Taking her silence as a sign to continue, Booth moved on, "About the fear... I know what that feels like too." He put his hand back on her shoulder, addressing her directly with a soft voice, "Do you remember what happened when you first found me in that ditch?"

Finding her voice, she answered quietly, not wanting to relive it, "You tried to get away when I touched you. As soon as you could speak, you begged me, you said "no" and "please"." Her eyes widened as she realised what he was getting at. "You were scared."

"I was terrified," Booth admitted simply. "Before they took me out of the slaughterhouse, Luca Dellato told me what was going to happen. He said that I would be left by the roadside and that you would be given instructions on how to find me." He took a deep breath. "Then he held a knife to my throat. He told me that if you pulled any tricks with the evidence, he'd be the one coming for me, and that he'd kill me when he did."

His voice remained level, but Brennan saw a flash of terror in his eyes at the memory and asked curiously, "You thought I'd try something with the evidence?"

"I _knew_ you'd try something," he answered honestly. "I just didn't think you'd get away with it. When they dumped me in that ditch, I'd convinced myself that I was going to die. I was cold, tied up, injured, and all I could do was wait for Luca to come back and finish the job. I heard your car and your footsteps and I thought it was him." His gaze dropped to the ground in shame, and he finished, almost in a whisper, "I begged because I had nothing else left. I was so sure that I was going to die there and the thought of my family not knowing, you blaming yourself, Parker growing up without a dad..."

He looked back up at her, swallowing hard to regain his composure as he concluded, "I know how it feels to be scared, Temperance. And as hard as it is to talk about it, it helps in the end."

She nodded, feeling her eyes fill with tears and becoming annoyed with herself for crying so easily. Letting Booth wrap his arms around her, she whispered in his ear, "I'm so sorry for what happened to you."

Holding her close, he ran his hand up and down her back in reassurance, whispering back, "Don't be sorry; it was never your fault." He pulled back slightly from the hug, wiping away the lone tear that had made it down her cheek and offering her a small smile, "Anything you want to talk about?"

Her arms still round his neck, Temperance shook her head, his smile reflected on her own lips, "You said it better than me."

Booth's grin widened, pleased to see the playful glint return to her eye and he moved in, "Well, there are lots of things you do better than me." His lips brushed hers and she leaned in towards him, pulling him into a kiss. When they broke apart, Booth murmured, smiling, "Sadly, that's not one of them."

Raising her eyebrows in surprise, she captured his lips with hers again, taking his statement as a challenge and one that she was determined to win. Manoeuvering herself onto his lap, she deepened the kiss, one hand behind his head and the other gradually traveling down to his belt. Her fingers slowly and deliberately brushed the crotch of his jeans and Booth groaned into her mouth, before pulling away with a smile, "Okay, you are pretty good at that."

His lips returned to hers with equal intensity and he trailed kisses down her neck and chest as she moved her legs astride his lap, her hands running greedily over the front of his tight-fitting t-shirt. His hands began to roam as well when a loud ringing was heard from inside the lodge.

Both of them instinctively ignored it, but it was Booth who realised its significance first. Eyes wide, he slid her off him, speaking in fear, "Bones, that's my new cell. No-one knows the number."

She waved away his complaint. "I gave it to Angela before so she'd have some way to contact us in an..." Her eyes widened too as she finished her sentence, "Emergency."


	12. Threats and Reassurances

"You gave Angela the cell number? Bones-"

"I had to!" she countered loudly, becoming defensive at the anger in his voice. "She was worried, Booth! Besides, _someone_ should be able to get in contact with us in an emergency!"

"Bones, if the Dellatos get hold of that number-"

"They won't," she interrupted again, irritably. "Now let me speak to Angela."

The incessant ringing in the background did little to help Booth's argument or his worries, and he clenched his teeth in anger. "Fine. Speak to her."

Throwing her the phone a little harder than necessary, he walked across the lounge, punching the wall hard in frustration at the newly-exposed vulnerability of their hiding place. Too focused on her friend, Brennan ignored him, turning away and answering the phone in her usual manner, "Brennan."

Booth opened his mouth to protest at the danger of answering a phone call with her name while she was in hiding, but decided against it, dropping to the couch in defeat as Angela's anxious reply was heard through the silent cabin, "Bren, we've got a problem."

Temperance's anger instantly gave way to worry at the fear in her friend's voice, and she asked nervously, "What's happened? Is everyone okay? Did something happen to Zach or Hodgins?"

"Not yet," the artist replied, equally nervously. "We got an email, Bren. All three of us, apparently sent from ourselves to ourselves."

"They got into your accounts?" she inquired, seeing Booth sit up on the couch, listening intently. "What did the message say?"

"'Family or friends?'," Angela quoted over the phone line. "Then it said to reply to the message if we chose family." Brennan stayed silent and the artist continued, her panic audibly rising, "They're threatening our families, Brennan. What are we supposed to do?"

"Ange, I..." she trailed off helplessly, feeling her heart sink at the news and knowing there was no way she could risk the lives of her friends' families in place of her own.

Getting nothing but silence, Angela spoke again, her tone becoming more forceful through her fear, "Brennan, what do we do? We don't know where you are; what can we even tell them to stop them from-"

"Bones." Almost dropping the phone in surprise, Brennan turned to find Booth standing close behind her, his expression calm but the same worry she felt reflected in his eyes. "Let me speak to her."

She shook her head, not letting go of the cell. "No, this is my problem. I should go back to DC, make the Dellatos leave them alone..."

"And how are you planning on doing that?" he asked, more harshly than he'd intended. "By letting them kill you? Because as distractions go, Bones, I've heard better."

Letting out a shaky breath, she glared at him. "It's my choice, Booth. You can't make me stay here and there is no way I'm letting anything happen because of me."

"Nothing's going to happen," he said firmly, meeting her eyes in the hopes of reassuring her. "I'm not about to risk their lives any more than you are, but the Dellatos are bluffing. They won't hurt anyone; it's just empty threats."

She looked at him in disbelief. "Empty threats? After what they did to you last time, how can you still think they're lying?"

His tone darkened as he moved closer, holding out his hand for the phone, "I'm not going argue about this with you now, Bones. Just give me the phone and let me speak to Angela."

Brennan folded her arms across her chest, keeping hold of the cell. "So you'll explain yourself to Angela but not to me?"

"Last time I checked, Angela was the one whose family was being threatened, so yeah, I'm going to speak to her instead of you," he said bluntly, his anger barely contained. "Give me the phone."

Taken aback by his tone, she slapped the phone into his outstretched palm before pushing past him and heading back out to the patio, body tense with anger. Booth opened his mouth to call after her, but changed his mind as he heard Angela's worried voice trickling from the phone. Sighing, he held it to his ear, and spoke with forced optimism, "Hey, Angela."

* * *

Passing the phone on Angela's desk over to Zach, Hodgins wandered across the artist's office to where his girlfriend was pacing anxiously, running her hands through her wavy hair. She looked up as he approached, asking quickly, "What did Booth say to you?"

The entomologist shrugged, "Pretty much confirmed what I already thought. Even if the Dellatos are serious about this threat, I've not exactly got any family for them to go after. Well, except for my cousin Ralph, but Booth was fairly certain that the Dellatos' contacts do not extend to a small missionary community in Madagascar." In spite of the situation, Angela smiled slightly at his words, and Hodgins placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as he asked, "What about you? What did Booth say?"

She forced a smile, trying to sound as casual as she could, "He didn't think I had anything to worry about. My Dad's the closest family I've got, and he said they wouldn't risk going anywhere near someone so high profile. Apparently I have nothing to worry about."

The mirthless laugh that followed her statement seemed to indicate the opposite and Hodgins moved closer, pulling her into a hug as he reassured her, "Hey, we're going to be fine, okay? Our families will be safe, the FBI will catch the bad guys, and Brennan and Booth will be back here before we even start to miss them." Meeting her eyes, he reiterated, "We're going to be fine."

She nodded slightly, not entirely convinced, and Hodgins leaned in to kiss her, trying to provide the best comfort he could manage. Before their lips met, however, their attention was distracted by the sound of the phone being replaced on the hook, and they quickly broke apart, moving over to an equally worried Zach.

Biting her lip, Angela asked with concern, "You okay, Zach? What did Booth say about your family?"

His face even paler than normal, Zach relayed the message quickly, "He said that he thinks they're bluffing and that they wouldn't go all the way to Michigan to go after my family." Putting his hands in the pockets of his labcoat to hide his anxiety, he continued, his voice stilted as he quoted verbatim, "He said to tell you that we shouldn't worry about it, that the FBI are on the case and that we should just carry on as best we can."

Angela just raised her eyebrows. "Carry on as best we can? What does he expected us to do, keep working while him and Brennan are hiding from the mob?"

"I believe "carry on" would imply that, yes," Zach answered without a hint of sarcasm.

The artist looked to Hodgins for support, only to find him nodding in agreement with Zach. She put her hands on her hips, making a noise of disapproval, and he explained, "This is the best thing we can do, Ange. If we look at the old evidence, we can concentrate on something other than our families, and try to help the FBI find out where the Dellatos are so that Booth and Brennan can come back sooner." He gave her a small smile when he saw her posture relax slightly and repeated, "It's the best we can do."

Relenting, she nodded and moved back over to her computer, eyeing a motionless Zach as she went and asking, "Are you sure you're okay, Sweetie? Because Booth knows what he's doing; he'd tell us if he thought your family was in danger."

"I know," Zach responded quickly and unconvincingly, before seemingly snapping out of his trance and stating, "I have work to do." He exited the office without any further explanation, leaving the concerned couple behind as they exchanged worried glances.

"He'll be okay..." Hodgins said uncertainly, his fingers playing soothingly and habitually with one of Angela's curls.

She nodded, turning back to the computer screen as she said, "It's Bren and Booth I'm worried about. From what I heard on the phone, I wouldn't be surprised if Bren knocks him out with a frying pan and comes back to deal with the Dellatos herself." The entomologist looked at her in surprise, and she waved away his stare, "Okay, so maybe she won't knock him out, but I can't see her letting this go easily."

"Well, that's what Booth's there for, right?" he asked uncertainly. "To stop her from doing anything stupid?"

Angela sighed, leaning back in her chair as she said doubtfully, "I'm beginning to wonder how stupid running away was in the first place."


	13. Conflict

The cell phone shut with a click and Booth slid it into the pocket of his jeans, letting out a deep breath and trying to calm the nerves that had been with him since the night before, when he'd first received the news that Brennan was in danger. Stressed and tired, he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand as he attempted to get a grip on the situation and push down the lingering annoyance from his confrontation with his partner.

With Brennan on his mind, he wandered back through the lounge to the patio, finding her staring out into the woods with her arms folded across her chest, clearly finding the situation as difficult as he was. He moved up behind her, following her gaze through the trees as he said quietly, "It was nothing personal, Bones. It was just easier to speak to the squints directly."

She didn't turn round, instead countering coldly, "Easier than what? Telling me what you were thinking? Including me in a discussion about the consequences of _my_ actions?"

"Bones..."

"No, Booth," she said firmly, stepping away from him. "You had no right to do that. This is my problem, and I should be the one who makes the decisions."

He frowned, lost. "Makes the decisions? The only thing I wanted to do was speak to Angela; you've made all the choices so far."

She met his eyes, speaking bluntly, "Well, I've made another one. I want to go back to DC."

"No."

She raised her eyebrows at his instantaneous reply. "No?"

"Bones, we've been through this. It's way too dangerous for you to be in DC while the Dellatos are still at large." He took a step forward, but stopped as she backed away, instead saying firmly, "This is the best way. You decided that, and I'm not about to let you change your mind because we hit a road bump."

"A road bump? You call threats to my friends' families a road bump?" Booth began to protest but she cut him off, "This was barely even my decision in the first place. You were the one who told me to run. You said that it'd be safe, that nothing would happened, and now look at us."

Booth's mouth fell open at the accusation and he replied angrily, "You're blaming me for this? It was your decision, Bones. This whole goddamn mess was always your decision!"

She took a step closer to him, voice raised, "You told me to run! I could've gone into a safehouse or Witness Protection, but you were the one who said this would be better."

"Bull," Booth spat bitterly. "Like I could persuade you to do anything you didn't want to. You logicked yourself out of the other options; I was just trying to find a way to keep you safe."

"And that always has to be with you, right? Because I'm some damsel in distress who can't look after herself without you there?" She gestured to the cabin behind them as she continued her tirade, "Was this just some chance to play the hero? Make you feel like you were protecting me while my friends are the ones suffering because of it? I'm your partner, your girlfriend, whatever you want to call it, but I'm not your property to take care of!"

Booth gave a derisive laugh. "You can take care of yourself, huh? 'Cause as far as I remember, Smith would've shot you last night if I hadn't showed up." Her mouth narrowed into a thin line and he took a step closer. "You really think you could hide from the FBI and the Dellatos without my help? You couldn't even manage to keep that cell number to yourself."

"She needed to be able to contact us!" Brennan countered with righteous indignation. "They went after their families, Booth; I was right to give Angela that number."

"Yeah, and you know why they went after the squints?" he asked, taking another step toward her. "Because of this, Bones, because of you. They thought you'd speak to the squints, and they were right. Now, not only are they in danger, but we're running the risk of them finding out where we are." He shook his head, almost as if he were disappointed in her. "It's not just your neck on the line anymore."

"I know that! That's why I want to go back, why I need to go back. Just because you're too pig-headed to follow my plan instead of your own-"

"You think I want to be here?" he interrupted, his voice dangerously low. "You think I wanted to give up everything I've got back at home? I might not even have a job when this is over, my family has no idea what's going on, and I'll be lucky if I ever get to see my son again after running away with you."

She shook her head, pointing at him in frustration, "Don't you dare blame me for this! I never asked you to come with me; I never asked you to get involved in any of this!"

"And what should I have done, Bones?" he yelled back, any restraint he had now eroded by anger. "Just sit and wait for the Dellatos to kill you? I'm sorry, but unlike you, I'm not one to stand by and watch people suffer-"

Before he'd even finished his sentence, her palm collided hard with his cheek and she stepped back, breathing heavily with a mixture of tears and fury in her eyes. Their gazes locked for a minute before she said coldly, "I'm going back to DC."

Still feeling the sting of the slap against his face, Booth just shook his head, his voice infuriatingly calm, "Not without the keys you're not." Willing away his emotions, he instructed simply, "Stay here, Temperance, and don't do anything stupid."

Saying nothing further, he headed down the patio stairs and into the woods, taking the keys and cell phone with him and leaving Brennan staring after him from the cabin, tears down her cheeks but hands still clenched in anger.

* * *

"You said this would work!"

Pacing angrily in the spacious lounge, Carlo Dellato glared at his cousin who was sitting in his armchair, apparently unconcerned. Frustrated at his lack of reaction, he moved to stand over him, gesturing to the clock pointedly, "It's been twenty-four hours since we sent the message to the scientists, and none of them have come forward to hand her over."

"They will," Luca replied casually, inspecting the cuffs of his suit jacket.

Growling in annoyance, Carlo leaned further over him, "They could've done anything by now. What if the Feds are tracing those emails? They could be here any minute and you couldn't care less. This is your goddamn score we're settling here; if Marco, Sal and Gina weren't stupid enough to get caught, we wouldn't even be in this mess."

His last comment was drew the other man's attention, and Luca looked up from his seat, his dark eyes meeting those of his relative and saying slowly, "Let me make myself perfectly clear, cousin. This is a matter of family honor, which means it is a score that we are all bound to settle. If you choose to return to New York, consider all olive branches between our respective sides of the family retracted. You will receive no aid, financial or otherwise, from me in future unless you finish what you started here."

He glanced over to the man seated on the other side of the room and spoke again, ensuring both Tony and Carlo knew where they stood, "One of the scientists will give in. It may take another day or two, but one of them will fear for their family more than their friends. They will disclose Dr Brennan's location, we will pay her a visit and we will kill her, her agent boyfriend and whichever of the scientists is cowardly enough to betray their friends. Until then, there is nothing to do but wait."

"Wait?" Carlo asked in disbelief, kicking the couch leg hard as he resumed pacing. "How long are we supposed to wait for, _cousin_? The scientists might not even know where they are, the FBI might be onto us... hell, the doctor might be out of our reach by now. This is never going to work!"

Luca raised his eyebrows, a dangerous challenge in his voice, "Are you questioning me, Carlo?"

Carlo's elder brother took that moment to break his silence, pushing himself to his feet and walking angrily toward his seated cousin. "Damn right we're questioning you, Luca. I don't know how you worked in the past, but considering your brothers and sister are in jail, your plans don't seem to be that reliable. Why should we trust you to order us around?"

Despite remaining seated, Luca somehow maintained the authority in the room, eyeing Tony as he said calmly, "I am not required to explain myself to you, cousin, but I will do so out of common courtesy. Marco was caught because he acted rashly and went against my orders, Sal was stupid enough to leave DNA at a crime scene and the evidence they collected against Gina was entirely her own doing. If she'd left the agent alone instead of using him to entertain her, then the FBI would have nothing to link her to the crimes." His tone became serious as he met Tony's eyes. "You disobey my instructions, I cannot be held responsible for what happens to you." A cruel smirk played on his lips as he asked, "Besides, do you have a better plan?"

Tony opened his mouth to speak, but soon closed it again, silently surrendering authority to his cousin. Luca merely smiled at the acceptance of defeat, relaxing back into his chair and turning his attention away dismissively. The two brothers turned, fists clenched in frustration but prepared to walk away from the confrontation, when they were suddenly stopped by a single bang on the front door.

All three Dellatos froze, taken aback by the noise. Carlo instinctively looked in the direction of his elder brother, his eyes wide as he whispered anxiously, "The Feds?"

Tony returned his gaze with a helpless shrug before scanning the windows of the apartment for any sign of snipers or SWAT teams. His attention was distracted when Luca got to his feet, his normal volume of speaking sounding like a shout in the silence that had engulfed the apartment, "If it were the Feds, they're predictable enough to call through the door. It isn't them."

Carlo glared at him, saying sarcastically, "Yeah, because we all trust your judgment."

Luca turned on him, his tone icy as he ordered, "Open it."

"Me?"

His gaze didn't waver and Carlo reluctantly gave in, drawing his gun from his leather hip holster and moving to the front door. Tony and Luca watched in silence as he took a deep breath before unlocking the door and swinging it open, his gun behind his back, but his finger on the trigger in preparation.

The two brothers' mouths fell open and a triumphant smirk played across Luca's lips as their visitor stepped forward, taking in the three men and swallowing hard.

Face pale with fear, Zach Addy spoke with as much courage as he could muster, "I choose my family."


	14. Rationale

Carlo stood still for a moment, staring in disbelief at the nervous young man standing at the door to their apartment. His finger remained on the trigger, instinctively suspicious of a trap, but he made no move either to shoot or to bring Zach inside.

Eventually he was snapped out of his thoughts as Luca reminded in a low voice, "Wire."

Spurred to action, he grabbed Zach roughly by his jacket, dragging him inside and conducting a cursory check for any wires or listening devices indicative of a trap. His cousin and brother moved closer, but remained silent as Carlo finished his inspection. Satisfied that they were not being overheard by the FBI, Carlo pushed Zach to a seat on their couch before stepping back as he announced, "He's clean."

Luca stepped forward, smirking as he saw the young man swallow hard, and asking with feigned casualness, "Now, Mr Addy, you were saying?"

"I choose my family," Zach repeated, hoping he understood the point of the man's question. "You asked us whether we chose family or friends, and I choose my family."

Tony and Carlo exchanged glances, but Luca continued, apparently unphased, "You're willing to hand Dr Brennan over to us in return for us sparing the lives of your family? Even after all the years you spent working with her?"

Zach nodded confidently. "It's most logical to value family over friends. I can get a new anthropology professor, and I can make new friends, but it's impossible to replace my parents. I could even replace my brothers and sisters if my parents had more children, but I have no way of creating a new mother and father."

The two brothers looked slightly appalled by his callous yet logical reasoning, but Luca just nodded in comprehension, saying calmly, "You made the right choice. Now tell us where they are."

Zach reached into his pocket, pulling out a neatly folded printout while the men instinctively took a step forward in anticipation. Opening the sheet with shaking hands, he read aloud, "They're in central Virginia. I triangulated the cell phone signal to here..." So saying, he handed them the sheet and Luca scanned it, a smile of triumph curving across his face.

Tony, however, had more pressing matters on his mind and walked closer to Zach, saying threateningly, "And how the hell did you find us here, kid? 'Cause I don't remember broadcasting our address to you science types."

The young man's face paled even more and he explained nervously, acutely aware of the guns perched on the hips of the three men in front of him, "I accessed the main server at the Jeffersonian to trace the source of the emails sent to all of us. The computer system records where we log in to our accounts and since the emails were sent from ourselves to ourselves all I had to do was trace the place where we logged in."

Luca raised an eyebrow at this, suspicion coloring his voice, "The location was encoded."

Zach just nodded again. "Yes, but a simple diversionary signal is less effective with multiple messages. While it would take hours to trace the route of one message through various countries and diversions, three messages sent in the same way can speed up the tracking process using a program that is currently in beta testing by the CIA and is accessible to someone with knowledge of the correct passwords."

Carlo blinked in confusion, before narrowing his eyes as Zach's last statement registered. "You traced our emails using a CIA program? You with the CIA?"

"No, but my friend, Jack Hodgins, has access to the program from passwords that he most likely obtained on a conspiracy website." Zach paused before clarifying, "He's not with the CIA either. It's illegal access."

Carlo opened his mouth to speak again but was cut off by a chuckle from his cousin, "The conspiracy theorist uses CIA software to trace his junk mail. Somehow that doesn't surprise me."

Irritated by Luca's apparent lack of concern for the consequences of this information, Tony stepped forward too, asking roughly, "Who else knows where we are? Who did you tell about this? Because you were warned, kid; if you go to the Feds, the deal's off."

"No-one," Zach responded quickly, panicked at the recurrence of the threat to his family. "I found the locations myself since Hodgins and Angela weren't likely to agree with my rationale."

There was a tense silence in the room, all of them fully aware that "rationale" in this case meant "decision to sacrifice my friends". Finally Luca broke it, his tone business-like as he turned to his cousins and instructed, "Call as many contacts as you can and tell them we're doing this now. We leave for Virginia in thirty minutes."

The others nodded, pulling their cell phones from their pockets and moving to the other rooms to make the necessary phone calls. Taking this movement as his cue to leave, Zach got to his feet, his eyes darting hopefully toward the door and his shoulders tense with fear.

This fear proved to be entirely justified as Luca turned abruptly back to him, a cruel smile on his face as he asked pointedly, "Where do you think you're going?"

Before he could answer, he pushed him back done on the couch, his dark eyes meeting Zach's frightened ones as he informed him, "You're coming with us, kid. If we don't find them, we may need you still." His smile widened as he added mockingly, "Of course, if we do find them, you'll get to watch as we put a bullet in your boss' brain."

* * *

Taking a tentative sip of her hot coffee, Temperance stared out of the kitchen window as the afternoon breezes swept through the forest surrounding the cabin. Despite her previous conviction that she was not a woman who enjoyed "smelling the flowers", she couldn't help but relax slightly in the picturesque location, miles away from mobsters, threats and attempted murder.

The tension from the argument the day before was still present in the house, with the partners barely saying a word to each other in the last twenty-four hours. Their anger had cooled, but the uncomfortable silence still remained, both of them too proud to apologise for their respective mistakes. At first Brennan had been thankful that Booth seemed to spent every waking minute out of the house and away from her, but after waking up that morning to find the couch slept on and the agent disappearing back into the woods, the avoidance was starting to get to her.

Always one to prefer confrontation and simple discussion to the complexities of silent treatment, she set her coffee down on the counter, picking up the other mug and moving to stand in the doorway to the kitchen, looking out into the lounge.

She sighed softly as she saw Booth sitting on the sofa, resting after yet another long, cathartic walk in the woods. Even with her lack of knowledge of body language, she could practically feel the stress emanating from him as he sat with his head in his hands, his shoulders hunched and stiff and his foot tapping irritably on the floor. Slowly and cautiously, she crossed the lounge, her slippered feet making no noise on the soft carpet, and came to a stop in front of him, biting her lip anxiously.

Booth looked up in surprise as she stood over him, and she saw his shoulders sag slightly, expecting another argument and resigned to further shouting matches with his partner. Her eyes drifted up to meet his, seeing utter exhaustion etched into his features as a result of the events over the last two days.

"Bones, I-"

Feeling a sudden wave of guilt wash over her at the prospect of him shouldering the blame for the entire fight, Temperance swallowed hard before silencing him firmly, "Booth."

Having never been particularly skilled at contrition, and rarely being the one to utter the word 'Sorry', she held the mug out to him hopefully, a nervous and inept peace offering.

"I, uh, I made you some hot chocolate," she stammered as he took the mug, his cold fingers brushing her overly warm ones.

His eyes flickered down to the mug and a tired but genuine smile crossed his face as he looked back up at her, asking in amusement, "Pink marshmallows?"

She shrugged, a smile on her own lips as she repeated his earlier assertion back to him, "Pink ones taste better than white."

Relief washed over her when he grinned in response, taking a sip of the hot chocolate as the previously awkward silence between them settled once again into one of comfortable understanding.


	15. War and Peace

The silence between them lasted a while longer as Brennan settled on the couch next to her partner, each of them sipping their drinks as they tried to find the words to restore whatever sense of normality they had before the argument.

Booth was the one to make the first, rather literal, move as he leaned forward to put his empty mug on the coffee table, before dropping his eyes to the floor and saying quietly, "I'm sorry, Bones."

"Booth-" she began quickly, not wanting to go into a discussion of who was to blame for their fight.

He interrupted her, glancing back at her as he sat forward, forearms resting on his thighs, "Just hear me out? Please?"

She hesitated for a moment before realising that talking about what had happened was what he needed to feel settled again. Nodding slowly, she put her mug down, listening silently as he continued, "What I said to you before... I didn't mean it. You know I didn't mean it. What happened before wasn't your fault; I know you did all you could to help me and I'm so sorry for throwing it in your face like that."

He paused, and Brennan opened her mouth to speak but was cut off as he moved on, "I shouldn't have yelled at you for wanting to go back to DC either. You were right; it's your choice and I should respect that." He sat up and looked over at her, his tone serious, "I don't agree with your decision, but if you want to go back, I'll take you whenever you want."

Her mouth involuntarily fell open at this statement and she murmured in disbelief, "Booth..."

"I think you'd be safer if you stayed here, but like you said, you can look after yourself." He gave her a half-hearted smile, rubbing his cheek ruefully, "Well, if that slap you gave me yesterday is anything to go by." Sobering up again, he met her eyes. "Anyway, it's your choice. It's my job to look after you and all your squints, but I overstepped the boundary and I apologise."

"No," she said firmly and his shoulders involuntarily slumped, thinking he'd said something wrong. Before he could give the apology another shot, Temperance continued, "You didn't overstep any boundaries. We're a couple now, and looking after each other is a part of that." Her voice became quieter as she admitted, "I never should've given the cell phone number to Angela. I'm not the only one in danger if anyone traces that call, and you had as much right to be involved in decisions about our safety as I did." She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

He nodded in acceptance, grateful for the apology, and gave her a reassuring smile. "It's okay. Besides, we'll be back in DC soon so you won't have to worry about contacting Angela."

She didn't return the smile, instead looking at him seriously and stating, "I don't want to go back to DC."

Booth's eyebrows shot up. "What? But I thought... Yesterday you said..."

"I know," she interrupted confidently. "But you were right. It's better for us to stay in hiding until the Dellatos slip up and are found by the FBI. Going back would only make it easier for them to find us, so logically it would be better to force them out of their safety zone instead of exposing ourselves to unnecessary danger."

Unable to stop the grin spreading across his face at her choice, he asked teasingly, "Is that Bones-speak for "we should duck and cover"?"

She sighed, a smile playing on her own lips as she complained half-heartedly, "Why do you always feel the need to simplify what I say? I speak perfectly eloquently and then you just want to shorten it for your own amusement."

Enjoying the sight of a playful pout on his partner's lips, Booth nodded with mock-solemnity, "Yes, that is exactly why I spend time with you; I just love to abridge."

Making a valiant attempt at glowering at him, she eventually gave up, a relaxed smile on her face as he pulled her toward him, both of them reclining back on the couch in each other's arms as Booth said sincerely, "I wouldn't change a thing about you, Bones."

Snuggled up against him, she asked, surprised, "Really?"

"Yep," he answered simply. "I'm happy with every little bit of you."

"Even though you think I speak in a long-winded fashion?"

"Like I said, I love to abridge," he replied, smirking at her need for affirmation.

"Even though I keep asking you for a gun?"

"Hey, I get to come up with new and varied ways to say "No" every time. You're a constant source of entertainment."

"Even though I slapped you yesterday?" she pressed, sure that actual violence would be one part of her he didn't like.

To her disbelief, she felt him shrug, his breath brushing over her hair as he answered, "I can't say I enjoyed it, but I needed to have some sense knocked into me, and you're apparently good at doing that." She frowned slightly, perplexed by this sudden attribute of perfection, and his fingers stroked her cheek gently as he reiterated, "I wouldn't change you for anything, Temperance. Even if you do drive me crazy from time to time."

She smirked at his last statement, reassured to hear that he wasn't about to start worshiping the ground she walked on, and curled her legs up underneath her, nestling comfortably into his side as she whispered, "Thank you."

Booth shifted his position slightly to accommodate her before asking curiously, "For what?"

"For what you risked to come with me," she answered frankly. "I was only thinking about myself-"

"Because you were the one who was nearly killed," he interrupted firmly, hoping to correct her priorities.

"But I didn't even think about what you'd lose by helping me get away. Your safety, your job, your access to your son..."

With her head resting on his chest, she heard him swallow hard before replying quietly, "You shouldn't worry about that."

"Yes, I should," she said simply, sitting up and looking him in the eye. "If you're risking everything to help me, the least I can do is show concern for the things you're worrying about."

Emotion flickered briefly in his eyes before his confident demeanor fell back in place as he gave her a tight smile, "You've got enough on your plate without thinking about me. My life will work itself out when this is over, but for now, all I care about is keeping you safe." He saw the anxiety in her face and squeezed her shoulder in reassurance, "We'll get out of this, Bones, I promise. They'll catch the Dellatos and we'll go back to DC and work everything out when we get there."

She visibly softened at his assertions, but before she could respond, the stillness of the surroundings was broken by the familiar sound of a car engine.

It took both of them a moment to process the city-like noise in the tranquil woods, but as the car came nearer, realisation quickly dawned and their wide-eyed gazes locked. Unconsciously holding their breaths, they both looked toward the window at the front of the cabin, watching the track outside in the vain hopes that it was a false alarm and just a lost tourist. However, the second they caught sight of an ominous black SUV coming to a halt outside, they were both on their feet instantly.

"Booth..." she whispered, hating the terror that crept into her voice.

The same terror was reflected in her partner's eyes as he pulled the pistol out of his ankle holster, his other hand gripping her arm and pulling her quickly toward the patio door. "Take this," he instructed firmly as they moved down the steps and toward the forest, sticking close to the edges of the small lawn in an effort not to be seen. "I need you to run, Bones. I think there's an old Park Ranger hut a few minutes in that direction which is the best chance we've got at hiding or making a stand-"

The sound of shouting was heard from the cabin, and Booth's grip on her arm tightened as he pulled her forward, whispering urgently, "Run."

Glass shattered down from one of the cabin windows, spurring them both to action as they began to run for their lives. Brennan's slippered feet slid precariously on the leaves littering the forest floor, but she pressed on forward, the tree branches scratching at the exposed skin on her arms and the unfamiliar location making it difficult to stay in the direction Booth had instructed.

Her pace quickened as she heard shouts reverberating through the woods from behind her coupled with the revving of engines as their pursuers realised that they weren't in the house. She hazarded a glance behind her, only to see the outlines of at least four black-clothed men tearing their way through the woods after her. Before she could fully estimate their number or their distance behind her, she tripped on the unseen rocks and grabbed onto the nearby branches to stop the momentum carrying her to the ground, her gun scraping against the wood as she did so. Lungs burning, she pushed on, desperately scanning the trees for some sign that she was near the hut and willing her legs to carry her faster.

However, as much as Brennan was struggling, Booth was faring a lot worse. Each time she glanced back, he was falling further and further behind, his healing ankle aggravated by the run and the uneven surface, making him barely able to stay upright as he stumbled forward.

Seeing him almost collapse against a tree, holding onto whatever he could find to support himself, she halted, looking back at him with concern and beginning to retrace her route when she was stopped with a gasping shout from her partner, "Bones, run!"

Chest heaving, she could only shake her head as she moved back toward him, aware that their pursuers were now getting closer. Booth stumbled on through the trees, calling pleadingly as he did so, "Bones, you have to keep running. Get to the hut and I can meet you there."

Struggling to catch her breath, she shook her head again. "Booth, I'm not-"

"Please, Bones!" he yelled, no longer bothering to hide his desperation. "Please, just run!"

Taking one final glance back, she did as instructed, making her way forward again through the trees and searching for the promised hut. Her ankles ached from the slips on the rough ground and she felt her body nearly give in with relief when the wooden hut finally appeared in front of her, flanked by trees with an unused track running beside it.

With an extra burst of adrenaline, she ran across the clearing, resting her back against the side of the hut as she gasped for breath, her hand gripping the gun tightly and her eyes scanning the woods for her partner or her attackers. The seconds seemed to drag pass, her deep breaths making every inhale and exhale last a lifetime, until at last she caught sight of movement coming in her direction.

She stood, gun and hopes raised, as the figures got closer, trying helplessly to make out her partner, but was distracted again by the sound of cars. Eyes wide, she stepped away from the hut as two SUVs pushed their way down the thin track, coming to a stop on either side of the supposed refuge of the hut.

Her gun now feeling heavy in her hands, she looked back and forth between the cars and the woods, hoping that some good would come from one of them.

All her hopes were slowly and methodically dashed, as the doors of the first SUV opened and Luca Dellato climbed out, flanked by two men dressed in the same black as their pursuers in the woods. The second vehicle was little better, and Brennan's mouth fell open in shock as Tony and Carlo emerged, pulling a terrified Zach out of the back seat and holding him firmly in place.

Finally, the four remaining henchmen made their way out of the woods, and Temperance's heart seemed to forget to beat when she saw a limping Booth being dragged with them, his hands fastened behind his back and a gun held to his temple.

Surrounded, she had little choice but to retreat back against the wall, aiming her gun shakily at Luca Dellato as he stepped forward, a dark smile on his face as he gloated, "Come now, Dr Brennan. Even you must know when it's time to admit defeat."


	16. Showdown

"Drop your weapon, Dr Brennan."

She shook her head, keeping her gun trained on Luca Dellato's chest as he came closer, a calm look on his face as he asked, "Do you really think you're in a position to rebel? Drop your weapon or they will be shot."

To reinforce the threat, Carlo grabbed Zach by the arm, training his gun at his head, while the two men holding Booth pushed him to his knees before pressing the barrel of the gun to the base of his skull. Her eyes flickering between the two of them, Brennan spoke with as much confidence as she could muster, "Let them go. You let Booth and Zach go, and I'll surrender."

"No-" Booth shouted desperately, only to be silenced by a kick in the ribs from his captors.

Ignoring his outburst, Luca kept his attention focused on Brennan, his voice as relaxed as ever, "No deal. You either drop the gun now or my men pull the triggers. It makes little difference to me either way."

She hesitated a moment longer, her back pressed against the wall and her chest still heaving from the chase, before grim resolution passed across her face.

A victorious smirk played on Luca's lips as her gun dropped quietly to the forest floor, her arm falling limply to her side in defeat. Motioning to his men, he congratulated her smoothly, "Wise choice, Dr Brennan."

Her eyes stayed locked with his as two more henchmen approached her, cinching a plastic zip-tie firmly around her wrists. She gave a perfunctory struggle, but the hopelessness of the situation was reflected all too clearly in her demeanor; there were nine of the Dellatos and their men while her two friends were already at gunpoint. She barely felt the black-gloved hands of the men gripping her arms, instead maintaining a stoic appearance as Luca walked slowly toward her, the expression on his face like one of a snake toying with a mouse.

Finding her voice, she tried again, demanding quietly, "Let Booth and Zach go. I'm the one you wanted to kill; they've not done anything wrong."

His chuckle made her jump, and Luca raised his eyebrows in surprise as he looked pointedly at Zach. "Not done anything wrong? Aren't you wondering how we found you here?"

Doubt registered on her face, and she said, more of a question than a statement, "You traced the call from our cell phone. When I called Angela, you triangulated the signal."

He smiled again. "You're half-right, Dr Brennan. Except... we weren't the ones who traced the signal."

Her brow wrinkled in confusion as she slowly followed his gaze to where Zach stood, eyes fixed firmly on the ground and face flushed with shame. Her mouth fell open and she whispered in disbelief, "Zach? You- you told them?"

Zach raised his head at her address, his shoulders hunched as he explained awkwardly, "I'm sorry, Dr Brennan, but I didn't want my family to be hurt."

"Bastard," Booth spat, struggling hard against the men holding him back. "I told you they'd be safe!"

"I couldn't risk it," the young man answered nervously, turning his attention to the agent. "I know what you said but my family were the easiest targets for them, and I wasn't satisfied with the reasoning you gave me."

"Reasoning?" Booth repeated angrily. "You just gave up your boss to be killed, kid. What the hell kind of reasoning is that?" Fists clenched as he pulled against the ties on his wrists, he pushed down with his good leg, making a lunge toward Zach as he yelled, "You son of a bitch!"

He barely made it to standing before one of his guards stamped down hard on his broken ankle. His cry of pain echoed through the desolate forest as he dropped back to his knees, gasping in agony and trying to stay upright as Luca moved over to him, smiling maliciously.

"Agent Booth, I thought you'd have learnt the consequences of speaking out of turn by now." Brennan saw Booth's jaw tighten at his words, but he kept his eyes forward, not looking over at her or up at Luca, who raised his eyebrows in response to his silence. "You don't think so?" He circled him slowly as he taunted, "As far as I remember, your ankle wouldn't have been broken if you'd behaved."

Brennan swallowed hard at the memory of watching her partner on the floor of the slaughterhouse, the weapon slamming into his ankle in retribution for his attempts at fighting back. She was quickly jerked back to the present by a wince from Booth, and she tried to pull away from the men holding her when she saw Luca rest his foot on her partner's injured leg. Before she could say anything, she caught Booth's subtle shake of the head as he bit his lip against the pain, and fell silent as Luca continued to speak.

"In fact, you would've gotten away with far fewer injuries if you'd just left it up to your girlfriend to decide," Luca informed him with a mocking shrug. "Guess you're just a glutton for punishment." Roughly, he pulled the neck of Booth's shirt back and smiled broadly at the marks still left by the whip strokes. "Well, that's what my sister seemed to think anyway."

This comment provoked a reaction, and Temperance watched as Booth pulled away from Luca's grip, his head down and his mouth in a tight line. She heard Luca laugh, but didn't take her eyes off her partner, her thoughts a mixture of curiosity and sympathy. She'd seen the marks on his back, but he'd never spoken about where they came from or why they'd been inflicted on him, instead avoiding the subject wherever possible.

Any further analysis was suddenly interrupted by another pained scream from Booth, and her gaze snapped up to see that Luca's foot was still on his ankle, pressing down harder and harder as he watched him nearly collapse with the pain. Unable to take it anymore, she yelled loudly, "Stop it!"

Surprised by her interruption, Luca instinctively moved his foot, looking over at her as she pleaded, "Leave him alone. You've done enough already."

"Have I really?" He looked down at Booth who was still struggling to get his breathing back to normal. "What about you, Agent Booth? Do you think I've done enough? Because I seem to remember telling you something before I dumped you in that ditch... Do you remember what it was?"

Booth said nothing, and before Brennan could figure out what he was talking about, Luca grasped her partner's hair, wrenching his head back and holding the sharp blade of a pocket knife to his throat as he asked cruelly, "How about now?"

"Booth!"

Luca tugged his hair harder as he ordered, "Keep your mouth shut, Dr Brennan. Agent Booth is going to remind us all of what I promised him."

She saw Booth close his eyes as the knife pressed harder against his throat and felt her heart constrict when he finally answered quietly, "You said you'd kill me if she tried anything with the evidence."

He nodded, satisfied. "And I am always a man of my word, Agent Booth."

"No!" Making a futile attempt at escaping the grip of her captors, Brennan struggled violently, trying to reason with the leader of the Dellatos, "I was the one who switched the evidence. You already want to kill me; you don't need to hurt him too."

To her immense relief, Luca actually lowered the knife, releasing his grip on Booth's hair and stepping away from him as he replied, "You're right, Dr Brennan. After all, you are the reason we're all here today." He smiled. "It only seems fair that your boyfriend and your colleague should get to watch your death before meeting their own." He gestured to his cousins, "Tony, Carlo, she's all yours."

Brennan's eyes widened as the two brothers stepped forward while their men kept a firm hold on Zach and Booth. Luca stood in the center of the group and watched with satisfaction as the two men approached her, Tony holding a gun and Carlo toying with a knife while she backed off against the wall, her attempts at bravery slipping away.

Handling his gun, Tony's voice took on a mockingly reassuring tone as he informed her, "Don't worry, Doc; we're not going to shoot you yet."

Carlo chuckled. "Yeah, after all the running around we had to do to find you, we're going to take our time." Without warning, he lashed out, smacking her hard across the face and sending her sprawling on the ground. Unable to break her fall due to her bound wrists, she struggled to sit, backing away as best she could and looking up at them through her disheveled hair. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Booth pull against his captors' grip, but to no avail.

The two brothers towered over her, Carlo's shadow falling across her face in the afternoon sunlight as he said conversationally, "You know how we work, Doc, and you know what we're going to do to you." The knife glinted in the light as he inspected the blade before asking, "So, tell us, should we start with the hands, the eyes or the tongue?"

Feeling a wave of nauseous terror sweep over her at the question, Brennan said nothing, her voice almost paralyzed by fear. Tears formed in her eyes, threatening to join the blood trickling from her split lip in a path down her face, and her breath came quick and shallow, as though her lungs were desperately trying to take in oxygen while they still could.

A shout of "Bones!" drew her eyes away from the knife for a second, but Booth's cry only served as a distraction, allowing Tony to grasp a handful of her hair and twist it painfully as he dragged her up to her knees, forcing her head upward. Her hands left the dirty ground and she could feel a dead leaf sticking to the perspiration on her palm as she fought uselessly against the ties.

Carlo bent over her, his cold eyes meeting her wide ones, and said darkly, "I think I'm going to start with those baby blues." He grinned. "Open wide, Doc."

"No!" Booth yelled, struggling against the men restraining him with everything he had left. Her eyes traveled quickly over to him, drinking him in for the last time while he shouted as loudly as he could, arriving at his last resort, "Help! Please, somebody, help!"

His voice reverberated through the quiet forest, with the pleas for help appearing to carry further than anyone thought they would. Tony and Carlo froze for a second, hearing his continued shouts echoing across the hills before one of the men clapped a hand over Booth's mouth on Luca's signal. The two brothers looked to their cousin, who gritted his teeth in annoyance as he scanned the area around them. Making a quick decision, he ordered in a low voice, "Take them inside. I don't want anyone interrupting us."

Frustrated by the delay, Tony lifted Brennan to her feet, practically carrying her over to the door as she kicked helplessly, still choking back tears. Booth and Zach were dragged behind her, with the rest of the men standing guard while Luca kicked down the old wooden door, striding inside.

Making one last attempt to stop herself being pushed through the door, Temperance planted her feet on the wooden wall and pushed back, the weight of her body making Tony stumble backward. His grip on her arms momentarily loosened and she wrenched free, spinning round and aiming a kick at his midsection.

Her foot never connected, and Carlo's fist instead collided with her cheek, knocking her to the floor as he followed her inside, eyes blazing with anger. Wincing, she instinctively brought her knees to her chest to protect herself against the blows she knew were coming, feeling rather than seeing him as he stood over her in the darkness of the large hut.

A blinding flash of light suddenly assaulted her eyes, and she closed them, bracing herself for the jolt of pain that was to follow, when a cacophony of shouts reached her ears, different voices yelling the same thing,

"FBI, put your hands in the air!"


	17. Fallout

Rationally, Brennan would have attributed it to being stunned by the blow to the head or being in shock from the near-death experience, but whatever the reason, the next few moments seemed to pass in a blur.

Lying on her side on the dirty wood floor, she blinked slowly since the light appeared to flicker as men ran past her. The floor vibrated under the heavy footsteps of the agents as they poured out of the hut in pursuit of those Brennan guessed had tried to run. Shouts of panic, orders to stop, and angry curse words reached her ears in a jumble, while other calm voices repeated the Miranda rights to those who had evidently been caught. Handcuffs were clicked into place, guns were replaced in holsters and sirens accompanied the noise of approaching vehicles outside while Brennan tried to reconcile the fact that she'd been about to die with the development that the hut she'd thought was empty was now swarming with FBI agents.

She let out deep, shuddering breaths, trying hard not to simply break down with relief, and started to move her arms in an attempt to sit up.

Still disoriented, she felt a sudden rush of fear as hands gripped her arms, and for a second she was convinced that the rescue was a figment of her concussed imagination. Panicked, she tried to pull away from the hands, her wrists still bound together behind her back, but was brought back to reality with a jolt as she was held firmly and lifted to a sitting position to look up at her supposed attacker.

"Bones, it's me."

The world seemed to slow back down at this, with Booth's familiar and comforting voice stopping the spinning whirly-gig of color and noise. Her eyes opened fully, traveling up from the floor to his face as he knelt in front of her, his hands on her arms and concern in his eyes as he said soothingly, "It's over, Bones, okay? You're safe."

Blinking back the tears that filled her eyes at this statement, she nodded in comprehension, her voice coming out much weaker than she intended as she whispered, "Booth..."

"It's okay... I'm right here. Everything's going to be okay," he whispered in reply, not taking his eyes off her as he then called to whoever was nearby, "Can someone cut her loose?"

Focused on her partner, Brennan took in the redness around his eye and the thin cut on his neck that she hadn't noticed earlier, barely even realising when an agent sliced through the plastic ties that held her wrists. Her hands fell limply by her sides, her knuckles colliding with the floor and finally making her aware of her new-found freedom.

In seconds, her arms were round Booth's neck in a desperate hug of relief. She felt his arms envelop her as she pressed her body close to his for support and comfort, both of them half-collapsed on the floor and Brennan's head burrowed into his shoulder, choking back the burning tears that threatened to fall. The noise around her faded away, replaced by the slow rise and fall of Booth's chest against her and his reassuring words as he stroked her back gently, "You're alright; everyone's okay. It's over now, it's all over."

Finally getting herself under control, she loosened the hug slightly, their arms still resting together as she sat back and looked at him as though coming back to earth. Registering this, Booth's eyes roamed over her face as he asked with worry, "Are you hurt?"

Despite the aching in her jaw that said otherwise, she shook her head, her voice regaining some of its previous confidence, "I'm fine. They didn't hit me hard."

From the force of the blow that had sent her to the floor, they both knew that her assertion was a lie. Cupping her cheek softly, Booth's fingers traced the reddened mark left by Carlo's fist before wiping away the blood trickling from her split lip. Meeting her eyes, he sighed sadly, sincerity etched into his features as he said quietly, "I'm sorry, Bones."

Shaking her head, her fingers brushed his own developing bruises as she answered honestly, "Don't be. We're both safe, that's all that matters." Her brow wrinkled in confusion as she looked round the hut for the first time, seeing the armed agents and computer screens lighting up the far corner, " _Are_ we safe? How did the FBI know the Dellatos would be here? Have they got enough to arrest them?"

"We've got more than enough."

Surprised by the answer from behind her, Brennan turned to see Cullen standing by the computers with a look of satisfaction on his face and, somewhat incongruously for the austere deputy director, wearing a bulletproof vest and holding a gun.

Still perplexed, she got quickly to her feet, her hand still instinctively entwined with Booth's as she moved over to the older man, looking at the computer screens as she asked tentatively, "You were recording this?"

He nodded. "Full video and audio surveillance all around the hut and back-up units stationed further down the old track. We caught every word, and the bastards had nowhere to run to."

"You were in here the whole time?" Brennan asked in surprise, unconsciously gripping Booth's hand tighter as she remembered all the things that the FBI had sat back and watched.

Cullen nodded, oblivious to the hurt in her voice, "Yes, we heard enough to get the Dellatos for everything. The two brothers said enough to prove their involvement in the attempts on your life and Luca practically owned up to everything that happened to Agent Booth two weeks ago. That, plus we've now got video evidence of assault, and some proof of the threats made to your squints." He smiled, tired but victorious. "They can hire the best damn lawyer in DC and they still won't get off."

Brennan's reeling mind didn't make it past the word "squints" and she immediately began scanning the room for Zach, although not entirely sure what she would do when she found him.

The search of the lit hut didn't take long, and she soon located him loitering nervously by the wall, having found the darkest part of the room to hide in. Leaving Booth to speak to Cullen, she took off toward Zach, still trying to come up with something to say to him.

Zach unknowingly put her out of her misery, however, as he launched into a panicked explanation the second she approached, desperately trying to explain his actions, "I never intentionally betrayed you, Dr Brennan. I was only supposed to work out your location and give it to the Dellatos so that the FBI could catch them here. Other than that I just had to go along with what they wanted so that they didn't shoot me."

The terror in his voice all but erased any feelings of anger toward her assistant, as Brennan realised that his earlier fear was anything but an act. Still curious, she asked with compassion, "But what about your family? I thought you were worried about them being killed?"

The young man shook his head, "I trusted Agent Booth's reasoning. Also it's physically impossible for someone to be in two places at once so if the Dellatos were busy with you, they would be incapable of going to Michigan and harming my family."

Oddly comforted by Zach's logic after an emotionally charged few days, Brennan felt herself relax slightly as she gave her assistant a small smile. "I'm proud of you, Zach. I never thought that you'd perform so well under pressure."

He managed a shaky smile in response, but his face still remained sheet-white as he stammered, "I didn't enjoy the experience, Dr Brennan. Seeing what happened to Agent Booth and what the Dellatos were about to do to you-" He shuddered. "I don't think I ever want to do that again."

She smiled in spite of herself. "I don't think anyone wants to do that again, Zach."

Apparently ignoring her comment, he continued, speaking to himself more than to her, "Even though we had a safety word, there were still a lot of variables that could have interfered, such as being taken to a different location or gagged or killed-"

"Safety word?" she interrupted, her smile fading as a dull realisation began to settle in her stomach.

"Yes, the word was 'porcupine'," he replied simply. "Although I was only supposed to use it if Agent Booth was unable to speak."

"Booth?" she echoed slowly, still refusing to reach the conclusion that was staring her in the face.

"Yes, Dr Brennan," Zach confirmed in his usual, clinical manner. "The whole plan was his idea."

Just as the world had passed in a blur moments earlier, it now seemed to slow to a sickening roll. Every breath in and out shuddered in her chest, and Zach's words and face were distorted by the blood rushing in her ears and the tears blurring her vision. Stunned, she stepped back, wanting to go anywhere that wasn't the increasingly claustrophobic enclosure of the hut, but was again held in place by Booth's hands on her arms.

This time, however, there was no weak struggle, and she wrenched herself away from him, backing away and feeling anger rise at the confusion on his face as he asked, "Bones? What's the matter?"

Too beaten and exhausted to launch a tirade, she just met his eyes, keeping out of his reach as she said quietly, betrayal lacing every word, "You knew."

Fixing her eyes on his face, she could see the thoughts pass briefly through his eyes, debating whether to feign ignorance, lie, or come clean. She felt vaguely vindicated when his gaze dropped guilty to the floor, clearly choosing the latter option as he spoke softly, "I was going to tell you."

"When? After the Dellatos had gouged out my eyes? Or were you waiting till after they cut my tongue out too?" Her questions were bitter, but not angry, as though she was too hurt to even muster rage. Swallowing hard, she asked coldly, "When did you do all this, Booth? Was this all part of some grand plan; get me to run away with you so that you could use me as bait in your trap?"

"Bones, it wasn't like that-" he began, taking a step toward her. She purposefully moved back, and he stopped, getting the message and now standing uncomfortably in the middle of the room as he tried helplessly to explain himself. "I didn't know what else to do. This was the only way I could-"

"When did it start?" she repeated, wanting answers more than excuses.

Dropping his head in shame, he finally answered honestly, "It started when you got the phone call from the squints yesterday. I told Hodgins and Angela that they didn't have to worry about their families, but there was no guarantee that Zach's family would be safe unless we came up with another plan."

"And you didn't tell me? I was out of the patio when you were planning all this and you didn't even think to-" She took a deep breath before asking again without emotion, "What did you do?"

"Bones, I-"

"What did you do, Booth?" she repeated icily. "What was the plan?"

"I called Cullen when I went into the woods yesterday afternoon," he responded, now adopting an equally business-like tone. "He set up a SWAT and video surveillance team in here this morning, and told them it was a drug bust so that word wouldn't get back to the Dellatos before now. Zach found where they were living and told them our location, and when they arrived at the cabin, I was supposed to get them to come to this hut so that we could catch them in the act."

Brennan's mouth fell open at the possible risks involved in the plan. "That was your plan? What if Zach had been killed? What if they'd killed us before we even got to the hut? If Zach found their hiding place, why couldn't the FBI just arrest them there?"

His eyes snapped back up to hers, confident in his own plan, and he explained briefly, "They wouldn't have killed Zach until they'd found us; he was too valuable. In the same way, they wouldn't have killed me before making sure they'd caught you, and I knew you could make it to the hut with the head-start that we had." He offered her a brief smile, only to be met with a stony glare. Smile vanishing, he finished, "We didn't have enough to charge them with if we'd arrested them back in DC; they'd only have been released and then they'd have come after you again. We needed to get solid proof of what they'd done, which is why I let it go on for so long outside."

"I thought they were going to kill you," she said, a lone tear escaping down her cheek. "Your ankle, the knife... Do you have any idea what it was like for me to watch that? And now you're telling me you could've stopped it at any time?"

"I didn't want to stop it before we got all we needed," he answered bluntly. "Luca was practically confessing to everything and I needed to make sure we could get enough on Tony and Carlo as well. If I thought they were actually going to kill me, I would've called the safety word."

"What about me, Booth?" she asked again, tears now falling more frequently. "Didn't I deserve to know what was going on? Shouldn't I have been allowed to stop it if it went too far?"

His eyes lifted to meet hers. "I would never have let anything happen to you. If they hadn't gone into the hut when I started shouting, I would've stopped it anyway before they hurt you."

"But I didn't know that," she said quietly, hurt now more audible than anger. "I didn't know what you were planning, or that we'd be safe. I thought they were going to kill me." Her voice finally cracked with tears of betrayal and fear as she whispered, almost ashamed, "I was scared, Booth..."

His own eyes glistening with tears, he took a step forward, reaching out in a last-ditch effort of reassurance, "I know, Bones, and I'm so sorry... It'll help the prosecution if you didn't know, and I couldn't risk them picking up on anything between us if I'd told you what was going on-"

He stopped, seeing Brennan raise her eyebrows in tearful disbelief. Her voice tinged with disgust, she said slowly, "You wanted it to look real? That's why you didn't tell me, so that you could see the look on my face when I thought they were going to rip out my eyes?"

Unable to find the right response, Booth moved closer to her again, saying pleadingly, "Bones..."

"No."

She didn't move, but the single word somehow magnified the distance between them even more. Meeting his eyes, she countered his begging gaze with a hard stare, her mouth tightening into a thin line as the tears stopped falling. Veiling any remaining emotion behind cold, distant eyes, she turned, walking slowly and decisively out of the hut. Her stride was one of simple rejection rather than melodramatic self-pity, leaving Booth no choice but to stay silent, fully aware that he had no right to demand anything from her, least of all forgiveness.


	18. Outcome

The persistent ringing of her doorbell woke Brennan from her well-deserved slumber.

Groggily, she cracked an eye open as she tried to get her bearings, but felt somehow disappointed in herself when she saw that she was lying on top of her bed-covers, apparently too exhausted to get into bed, and still dressed in the loose slacks and baggy tee that she had changed into for the long drive back to DC. Looking up to check the time, she wrinkled her nose at the sensation of the wet fabric against her cheek, realising that it'd been years since she'd cried herself to sleep.

Her frustration at her emotional state was not helped back the fact that her clock read 11.26pm, with her unknown visitor deciding to wake her up just as she was about to embark on a long and desperately needed night's sleep. When the bell stopped, she briefly considered rolling over, putting the pillow over her head, and letting whoever was outside wait till morning, but duty won out when they started knocking firmly on her front door.

Sighing in annoyance, she swung her legs out of bed, feeling herself wobble as she stood but making it to the bedroom door nevertheless. Her heart sank a little further when she looked out into her lounge, which still showed the evidence of the fight she'd had with her attacker two days earlier. Shards of glass and splinters of wood were intermingled with books and papers which had been strewn across the floor in the struggle, and Brennan started to wish she'd cleaned it up before crawling into bed, if only to have avoided dealing with the memories again in the morning.

Her attention was distracted by another shrill ring of her doorbell, the person outside evidently having given up on knocking, and she continued in her path to the door, skirting the edge of the room to avoid the carnage which had been inflicted upon her bookshelves, and opening it tiredly.

The vision of Booth standing in her hallway was not a surprising sight, but that still didn't mean it was a welcome one.

Eyes hard, she scanned over him quickly, taking in the two gray crutches which he leaned on heavily and the new blue splint on his ankle. The tanned skin around his left eye was starting to darken into a bruise, although the discoloration was barely noticeable with the heavy bags under his eyes, and his wrists bore thin red marks which matched those on her own arms. Instead of arousing sympathy, however, his injuries only acted as a reminder that he had been fully able to prevent everything that had happened to both of them.

Resisting the urge to slam the door in his face, she moved to block the way in, standing between the door and the frame as she asked coldly, "What do you want, Booth?"

She expected him to be uncomfortable, to shift slightly as he answered or to look away from her gaze, and so was taken aback as he stood still, his eyes locked on hers as he asked calmly, "Can I come in?"

A petulant 'No' danced on her lips, but she instead matched her demeanor to his, adopting his quiet confidence and self-assuredness with chameleon-like ease as she opened the door wordlessly and moved to lean against the back of the sofa. She watched silently as Booth limped inside, a plastic bag swinging from one of the grips of his crutches and his jaw clenching in frustration as he found he was unable to close the door behind him.

Finally pushing it shut with his elbow, he shuffled further into the room, his eyes widening as he surveyed the mess of her apartment. "Bones, you should've got someone to clean this up."

She folded her arms across her chest, the baggy t-shirt bunching under her breasts. "I had more important things on my mind at the time."

"Right," he responded briefly.

Brennan half-expected it to be followed by a 'Sorry' and felt a strange rush of irritation when it wasn't. Looking at him icily, she decided to cut to the chase, "Booth, if you've come to apologise, I don't want to hear it. It's late, I'm tired-"

"I haven't come to apologise."

Her eyebrows shot up at the comment, anger rising in response to his lack of contrition. "Then why are you here?" she inquired bitterly. "Did you forget to tell me about another part of your plan? Were you the one behind the attempts on my life too? You think it would be fun to watch even more people try to kill me?"

Booth's lips tightened at the accusation and he replied levelly, "You don't mean that. You know I didn't want to see you hurt."

"Do I know? Really? Because after what you told me today, I don't know what you think anymore." She shook her head, looking at him with disgust, "You didn't need to let them go that far. You could've stopped it, and you didn't."

"No, I didn't," he agreed simply. "I'm not apologising for what I did, Bones. It was the only way to put the Dellatos in jail where they belong, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. I know you got hurt, and believe me, I didn't enjoy seeing it happen, but there was no other choice."

"You could've told me," she shot back, betrayal rising to the surface again. "You could've let me know what was going on, and what you were planning to do. You didn't need to leave me in the dark like I couldn't be trusted."

He sighed, infuriated. "It wasn't a matter of trust and you know it. It was too risky to tell you; the Dellatos could've picked up on something between us, or they might not have believed you if you'd pretended to be scared."

"Oh, and Zach was completely convincing?" she spat sarcastically.

"Zach didn't know," Booth replied, becoming gradually more frustrated. "I just told him to go to the Dellatos and then do what they said. He was just as scared as you were in that clearing."

"He had a safety word! You both did! All you had to do was say it and you knew you'd be safe." She took a step closer to him, the hurt clear in her eyes as she asked, "What was _I_ supposed to do, Booth? Just wait till you thought I looked scared enough?"

"What do you want me to say to you, Bones?" he shot back in reply. "Tell you I wish I hadn't done it? Because that would be a lie."

Gritting her teeth in anger, she glared at him. "Is that why you came here? To rub it in my face that you were right? Even Zach thought what you did was wrong."

"Zach?"

Pleased to have caught him by surprise, she gestured to a small bunch of flowers that had been temporarily left in her sink. "Yeah, Zach came by as soon as I got back. He left me those and he apologised for what happened." Her tone turned bitter, "Guess it was too much to expect the same from you."

Booth raised his eyebrows, his voice almost mocking, "You wanted that? Since when were you the kind of woman who wanted flowers and platitudes? Sure, the kid can apologise for what happened, but he wasn't the one whose job it was to keep you safe. Yeah, I'm sorry that you got hurt, and I'm sorry that the Dellatos went after you in the first place, but I'm not sorry for what I did. I don't know what else you want from me, Bones, but I'd never lie to you for the sake of it and I'm not about to start now."

"You managed to lie pretty well for the last two days," she said quietly, her voice lower but still seething with anger. "You want to know what I want from you, Booth? I want you to get out."

The order hung in the air between them for a few moments, stubborn gazes locked together as they both fought to leave the argument victorious. Brennan felt a rush of triumph, therefore, when Booth broke away first, looking down at his crutches as he took an awkward step toward her.

However, his eyes then returned to hers again, filled with determined confidence. "Because you're angry at me, right, Bones?" he asked again, frustration breaking through as he spoke. "Because as far as you're concerned, I betrayed you. I put you in danger for the greater good. I stood by and watched as the Dellatos hurt you. I didn't tell you what was going on, and I let you think you were about to die." He took another step forward, his eyes and voice tinged with disappointment as he asked simply, "Can you tell me you wouldn't do exactly the same?"

Instinctively opening her mouth to counter his challenge, she instead found herself choked by realisation. Dropping her eyes from his in shame, she fell silent as the comparisons seemed to fall into place, each hammering like a guilty verdict instead her head. She remembered her own plans two weeks earlier, which had seen Booth brutally tortured so she could get the evidence to arrest some of his kidnappers. She recalled the feelings of betrayal he'd told her about at being left to suffer at the Dellatos' hands. Finally, she thought back to the conversation she'd had just days earlier, when Booth had described how he'd feared for his life because of her actions.

Fully aware of the hypocrisy of her anger, she slowly lifted her head to face him again, struggling to find the words to say and preparing herself to see the smug satisfaction on his face. But for what felt like the hundredth time that evening, Booth surprised her yet again.

His expression was one of compassionate understanding as he dipped his head close to her, unable to use his hands because of the crutches but somehow bringing her up to face him fully. With the barest hint of a smile on his lips, he said softly, "I'm sorry you had to go through it as well, Bones, but please understand that I had to do it. It was the only way-"

"To keep me safe," she finished, equally quietly. "I remember that reasoning." Her shoulders sagged, all feelings of hurt and indignation now replaced with guilt and annoyance at herself. "Booth, I'm-"

"No," he interrupted gently, giving her a small smile. "Neither of us need to apologise. We've both been there and know how difficult the choices are. I know there's no way you can be happy with what I did to you today, but as long as you understand why I did it, that's enough for me."

"But what I said-"

"That's enough, Bones," he repeated, his voice firmer but still oddly soothing. "Neither of us need any more justifications or recriminations today. It's over; the Dellatos are going away for a very long time, all the squints are safe, and both of us are home in one piece." His gaze darted over her shoulder to her lounge as he added with a smile, "Even if your bookshelf isn't."

A matching smile played on Brennan's lips too as she glanced over at her barely-standing bookcase. "Zach offered to help clean it up before he left, but I told him it could wait."

Booth nodded in agreement. "It can definitely wait. Finding a home for your Culture Studies of Outer Mongolia should come way below rest and recuperation on your list of priorities."

She smirked slightly as she replied teasingly, "I _was_ resting until you showed up."

His expression became instantly apologetic. "Oh. I'd thought you'd still be awake what with the hospital and everything..." Realising his sentence wasn't going anywhere, he glanced back down at his crutches, speaking quickly as he started to move to the door, "I'll just go and leave you to it."

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, "Booth, wait." Turning round with difficulty, he stood in her hallway, waiting expectantly as she tried to find the right words. "I, uh, I'm glad you came," she stammered eventually. "We needed to talk."

He nodded, the relief on his face undoubtedly mirroring her own. "That we did." There was a brief moment of silence before his memory suddenly kicked in. "Oh, I almost forgot..." Balancing on his good leg, he quickly maneuvered the small blue plastic bag off the handle of his crutches, playing with it anxiously as he said, "You know how we used your scarf to tie up the guy who attacked you here?"

"Let me guess, the FBI cut it off him when they took him to the holding cells?" she inquired with a smile, trying to forget that this was her favorite scarf which also happened to have cost $600.

Booth practically winced at her deduction, but didn't deny it, "Yeah. Anyway, I picked this up on my way over here tonight, and thought you might want it."

Nervously, he walked back over to her and handed her the bag, instantly retreating again as he explained, "I know it's not as nice as your other one, but I swear I'll replace that one when I can. It's just, it was late and I didn't know where you bought it and my paycheck doesn't come till next week and-"

His rambling was cut short as Brennan said with a small smile, "Booth." She looked down at the pale pink scarf, letting it rub softly against her marked wrists. "It's beautiful. Thank you."

He shook his head, slightly embarrassed about the gift, "It's not like your other one, but it should at least keep you warm till I can buy another-"

"Booth, this one's fine," she reiterated with a smile, wrapping the material round her neck as a demonstration. "You don't need to buy me a new one. Besides, what's the point of having a scarf if it doesn't keep you warm?"

He chuckled, looking up at her with a familiar gleam in his eyes. "Only you would prefer a crappy scarf to a $600 scarf because of the warmth." His smile faded slowly as he stared at her, and he shuffled on his crutches again as he said awkwardly, "Anyway, I should get going. You're tired, and you need to get some rest. I'll swing by in the morning and help you clean this mess up."

Turning round, he was stopped again by his partner's voice, slightly more anxious than before, "Wait." He glanced back to see that she had stepped forward, suggesting quietly, "You could always stay here."

Taking in the glass and paper strewn couch and realising what that meant, he asked for verification, equally quietly, "You sure? The drive home won't take long..."

"You shouldn't drive with that ankle," she said firmly, before her voice dropped to a more personal tone, "And yes, I am sure." Seeing his hesitation, she clarified, "Not for us to sleep together - you're still injured and I don't want to hurt you - but just to..." She gave him a timid smile. "Rest and recuperate?"

She couldn't help but let out a breath of relief when his response was a genuine smile, and she asked teasingly, "Is that a yes?"

"That's definitely a yes," Booth shot back with a grin. "I've been wanting to get you into bed for two days now."

Inexplicably relieved by the return of his usual banter, she led the way to the bedroom as she replied in kind, "You know you just got injured again, yes? If I wouldn't have sex with you two days ago, what makes you think I'm going to be any less worried about hurting you now?"

Grinning at her, he sat down on the edge of the bed with a groan, dropping the crutches to the floor and catching her wrist as she moved past him to flick on the light on the bedside table. Her hands came up to rest on his shoulders as she stood in front of him, his hands nestled at her waist, and she said with a sigh, "We really should go to sleep. And you really are hurt, so forget about anything else."

He sighed in reply, pulling her closer to him as he muttered with feigned pouting, "Spoilsport."

Any future protests were silenced as he leaned up to capture her lips with his, his arms wrapping snugly round her waist when she moved closer to him, kissing him gently from her standing position. His tongue brushed playfully against her lips, wanting access, and when she granted it, his hand slid down to her ass at the same time, giving it a knowing squeeze.

Letting out a surprised yelp, she broke the kiss but made no move to shift his hands to another location as she said with all the seriousness she could muster, "We should sleep."

Booth nodded in agreement, the boyish glint not leaving his eyes, "Yes, we should." He tugged her playfully down into another kiss, his hands running over her curves while his lips moved to her neck, his voice gradually losing sincerity as he spoke between light kisses, "We really, really should."

"Booth..." she murmured softly, uncertain whether she wanted him to continue or to stop. Finally deciding that sleep and healing time were more important than her partner's entirely injury-free lips, tongue and hands showing her exactly what they could do, she moved back, instantly regretting it as the cold air replaced his kisses. Swallowing hard, she looked at him with her best stern demeanor, "Wait till tomorrow."

Smiling at her efforts, he conceded, his own tired body feeling the effects of the day's exertions, "Alright. I can wait till tomorrow." His grin became teasing again as he shrugged with mock innocence, "Although, as we've barely left each other's sight since the end of our date on Friday, this is still technically our first date." He gave her a wink. "Never would've had you down as one of those girls, Bones."

Slapping him lightly on the arm, Temperance briefly considered whether two days of fleeing from killers, hiding from the FBI, and dealing with the repercussions of secret plans could actually be considered a first date. As Booth's lips met hers, however, she quickly came to the conclusion that, even if it had counted as a first date, it would be the last first date she would ever have.


End file.
